The Lord of the Rings: The Evil Awakened
by Physics Goddess
Summary: What would've happened if the One Ring hadn't been destroyed. Follow the story of Frodo Baggins in his struggle to destroy Sauran once and for all.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Comments: This is my first fan fic of The Lord of the Rings. Please feel free to comment! Be nice though please. **

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_**Prologue**_

There was a time in Middle-earth, when the elves still wandered the lands, a time when the world of men had little strength left in its blood, and a time when the power of Sauron the Blackwas growing.

The time of the elves was soon to be over, and yet the threatof Evil was still abroad. It was at this time that one person decided to defy all of the odds against him and take the Ring of Power and destroy it. With him traveled eight companions: Legolas Greenleaf, the elf; Gimli, son of Gloin, the dwarf; Gandalf the Grey, the wizard; two men, Aragorn son of Arathorn and Boromir of Gondor; and three hobbits, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Samwise Gamgee. They were called the Fellowship of the Ring.

Through many perils they passed and the senses of the Ring-bearer became sharpened as he was almost claimed by the Shadow World. His pain grew more as he lost Gandalf to the Darkness of Moria. He knew in his heart that he must complete his task on his own, and set out for Mordor with his faithful companion Sam and the creature Gollum to guide his way, while the remainder of his companions battled against the armies of the two towers.

Betrayed by Gollum, he was poisoned by the great spider Shelob only to be taken prisoner by the orcs. Sam rescued him from the clutches of the enemy, and carried the Ring-bearer up the side of Mount Doom. Here the Ring was about to be cast into the pit of Doom when the Ring-bearer was finally overcome by its power. He claimed it as his own and placed it on his finger to pass into the Shadow World.

Gollum broke the turn of events by running forward and tearing the Ring off of the Ring-bearer's finger. However his momentum caused him to topple into the cracks of Doom. The race of men had its glory restored by the return of the Kingwho led them bravely in their battle.

Consumed by his pains, the Ring-bearer was allowed to go to the Grey Havens. Unfortunately the Evil was not destroyed. In fact for Frodo Baggins, the Halfling, the Ring-bearer, the hell he had been living had only just begun. Now a new era has begun. The time of men, in which Aragorn is the King of Gondor, and ever the strength of Sauron grows more potent, over the years rebuilding his armies. A time of peril has begun, and only one person can stop it. Soon enough it will be a hobbit that will take the weight of Middle-earth upon his shoulders.

It has begun, the beginning of the end.


	2. Chapter 1 A Nameless Fear

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Comments: I apologize if my translations are incorrect. I'm using an online dictionary. **

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**BOOK I**

_**Chapter 1**_

A Nameless Fear

The grass of the field was lush, and green, and freckled with large, bright yellow flowers as far as the eye could see. Immense leafy trees erupted from the ground in the regions around this field, and the many other similar to it. Rolling hills protruded through the surface of the grassy vicinities of the land. Crude fences were plotted about the land, mostly surrounding the rich golden wheat, towering corn stalks, or simply dividing the meadows from the large dirt road that made its way past the hills and grassy spots. All in all it was a beautiful area, well away from the dangers of the outside world. Birds sang, for they had no cares in such a quiet place. The sun in the bluebird sky smiled down upon the peaceful landscape. The woods, the fields, little rivers, and she took great care to embrace upon a certain field and the figure that walked upon it.

The figure was small, and dressed in a simple outfit. It consisted of a light-blue buttoned shirt that was rolled up to his elbows, and partially undone, exposing the pale skin of his lower neck. He wore a pair of dark-blue breeches that were held up by crisscrossing straps of the same colour. His hair was curly, and full, and cascaded down the nape of his neck. Its colour was a dark-auburn hue that under the embrace of the sun shone almost red. The hair framed a face of pale complexion, and soft features except for a small cleft in his chin, and a chiselled nose. His large eyes opened to reveal that they were a light blue circumscribed by a ring of dark-blue, and his mouth was oddly shaped, giving him a solemn expression. His ears, barely visible under his hair were slightly pointed, combined with his pale skin gave him more of an elvish appearance. This contrasted with his feet, which were larger than would be expected of someone of his stature, and surprisingly furry. This appearance categorized him as what the Big Folk call Halflings, what the elves call Periannath, and what the Little Folk call hobbits.

The hobbit strode across the field, savouring each step as though it might be his last. He took delicate time to embrace in all that surrounded him. He closed his eyes, and simply stood, allowing the pleasure to course through his body. The sweet smell of the flowers lingered about him. The perfumes were all so different, and unique to the flower from hence they came, but they all blended to a fragrance that was indescribable and wonderful. The babble of the river and the chirping of the birds were a simple yet beautiful melody that chorused together in a wonderful harmony. The breeze caressed his face and neck, and he arched his neck indulging in the simple pleasure that it provided him.

Many years had passed since the hobbit had last been here. He walked across the field stopped, and climbed up onto the crude fence that surrounded it. He looked around, surveying the landscape, a sad smile on his solemn face. His name was Frodo Baggins, and to him the land known to many as simply the Shire was not just the Shire. It was home. He was filled with bittersweet memories of the Shire. Unlike most hobbits, he had not been able to spend all his life there.

Frodo jumped lightly down from his perch and began to walk. His pace increased as the slope of the hill grew steeper. Nestled in the hills were hobbit-holes, and the hobbits were beginning to come out to enjoy the day. A genuine smile broke Frodo's face, brightening his features, and he trotted quickly down the hill to join the hobbits below. The gravel road made no sound under his light footfalls as he came towards the market place. The hobbits took no notice of him, which Frodo found a bit odd. He turned around and saw old Mr. Proudfoot gardening outside.

"Good morning Mr. Proudfoot," Frodo greeted the old hobbit warmly. "Beautiful day isn't it?" The old hobbit did not even look up from his work. "Good morning Mr. Proudfoot." Frodo repeated, a bit louder. He did not recall that the old hobbit was hard of hearing, but seventeen years might have changed that.

Finally Mr. Proudfoot looked up and shouted, "Good morning!" Frodo was startled. Mr. Proudfoot had to be hard of hearing, he reasoned, for there was no other reason to shout a good morning to someone standing right in front of you.

Frodo was just about to reply, when someone shouted from behind him, "Good morning!" The hobbit turned around and saw the Gaffer, Sam's father, standing outside his mill.

"Lovely day isn't it?" shouted Mr. Proudfoot.

"Indeed!" shouted the Gaffer.

Frodo stood flummoxed in the middle of the road while the conversation continued. It was as though he was not even there. Shrugging, he continued on. Looking up the road, he could see a figure with an umbrella. It was none other than Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Frodo stopped to say hello, but she walked right on past him without so much as even a glance. Frodo was very taken aback then he became even more puzzled. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins had died years ago. He turned around, but she had gone, disappeared off of the road completely. Frodo shivered, and continued walking.

Hurriedly, Frodo walked up the gravel road towards The Hill, a large mound indented with a good number of hobbit-holes, but one in particular that had a round green door and a brass knob in the exact middle. This was known throughout the Shire as Bag End. Frodo had lived here for a good many years before he had been forced from the Shire. Frodo opened the wooden gate, and went up the stone steps to the door. He raised his fist and knocked on the door. The sound echoed oddly, and the hobbit waited patiently. The door opened and the face of another hobbit appeared. His face lit up and he rushed outside.

"Mr. Frodo!" he exclaimed, and threw his arms around the hobbit. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"It's good to see you Sam," Frodo agreed as he held his old friend and loyal companion tightly.

"Come in, Mr. Frodo, come in!" Sam invited excitedly, and Frodo stepped inside. Sam was so excited that he forgot to close the door. Frodo smiled at his friend's excitement, and closed the door behind him, and surveyed the inside of Bag End.

It was like any other hobbit-hole in the Shire: long comfortable halls with no other levels, many rooms and entire cupboards devoted to food. Sam grabbed Frodo's hand, and eagerly led him down the long hallway, into the kitchen. Inside there was a nice wooden table shining with polish, and set with three chairs, also shining. Other chairs were stacked in the adjoining room. On one of these chairs sat a pretty hobbit with long curly dark-blonde hair, and bright healthy skin clothed in a simple blue dress, and on her lap sat a small hobbit-girl with golden hair sucking on a bottle.

"Look, Rose, my dear, Mr. Frodo's come to visit us!" Sam exclaimed, happily.

Rose Cotton's merry brown eyes brightened, and her smile lit up the already well-lighted room, and she stood up.

"Hello, Frodo," she said warmly, brushing her long curly hair away from her face with one hand, still holding the infant in her other arm. She put her arm around embraced him.

Frodo held her tightly. He wished he did not have to let go. Though he had no desire for Rose, he had missed her and Sam terribly over the long time that he had been gone. He found it odd that it was not mentioned that he had been away for as long as he had. The hobbit-girl looked up from her bottle and peered up at Frodo with inquisitive blue eyes.

"This is Elanor, as you know," Sam referred to his fair young daughter in this way because it had been Frodo who suggested they name her that. Sam had told him that he and Rose had agreed to name the child Frodo if a lad, but things got complicated when the child turned out to be a fair young maid with golden hair, which was uncommon for hobbit-children.

She had been born after the Scouring of the Shire, and all the hobbit-children born at that time were blessed with an elvish appearance. Sam had been quite distraught at what to name her, so Frodo suggested Elanor after the beautiful moonlike flowers in Lothlórien.

"Say hello to Uncle Frodo!" Sam instructed the infant affectionately. Elanor gurgled, and stuck her tongue out at Frodo. Frodo laughed and poked her gently on the nose. She giggled and grabbed his finger, and began to suck on it. Frodo wondered why Sam had told her to address him as 'Uncle', for he was not related to the family. Then an odd thought struck Frodo. He had seen Elanor years ago, and she had been only six months old, and visiting now seventeen years later, she had not aged at all. She should have been at least seventeen. This perplexed him, but he resolved not to dwell upon it.

Once Elanor had released him and resumed with her bottle, Frodo sat down and chatted with Rose and Sam. It amused him to think that Sam had once been afraid to talk to Rose because he liked her. Sam was the only one who called Rose Cotton by her true name. Everyone else in the Shire had always affectionately known her as Rosie.

"How're Merry and Pippin?" Frodo asked.

Sam smiled heartily and suggested, "Well, Mr. Frodo, why don't we go and see them?"

Rose got up and took the empty bottle from Elanor, and the infant wailed unhappily. Rose rocked her, crooning softly, but to no avail. Elanor continued to cry.

"May I hold her?" Frodo asked. Rose nodded, and he trotted over and gently removed the wailing infant from her mother's arms, and stroked Elanor's ivory cheek. At once she quieted, and seemed to fall immediately to sleep. Frodo shrugged sheepishly at Rose's vexed expression and they set off.

Elanor snored softly in Frodo's arms as he walked along the deserted dirt path. The Shire, Frodo realized, was now empty, and that was very odd. Only minutes ago, the hobbits had been bustling about in the market place. Now there was no trace of any hobbit, in or even remotely near the market.

Rose and Sam walked ahead of Frodo and Elanor, holding hands. They neared a hole that had a small wooden fence around it, and on the fence was a sign reading 'Residence of Took' which meant it was Pippin's house.

"Hopefully they're having afternoon tea together," Sam muttered from behind Frodo.

The hobbit reached up with one fist while balancing the snoring Elanor in the other, and as he did so, he noticed that all of his fingers were intact. His ring finger should have been missing.

"Is something wrong Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked. Frodo shook his head and knocked on the wooden door, which echoed oddly. A patter of feet was heard inside and the door opened, and Peregrin Took came out onto the mat. An expression of surprise, and delight, crossed his face.

"Frodo!" he exclaimed, his thick accent showing through each syllable, and then he shouted. "Merry, it's Frodo Baggins!"

More pattering feet were heard, and moments later, Meriadoc Brandybuck came down the hallway to stand in the doorway next to Pippin, and as well as his friend, could barely contain his excitement and surprise.

"Hello, Frodo!" he exclaimed.

Elanor opened her blue eyes and gurgled at the two hobbits. Rose came and took her daughter back into her arms, enabling Frodo to embrace his two friends.

"Come in!" Pippin insisted, and they set inside the hole of Peregrin Took.

Frodo had never been inside Pippin's hole. It was larger than a normal hobbit-hole, for Merry and Pippin stood over four feet tall due to draughts of entwash, which the ent, Treebeard, had given them in the forest of Fangorn. Because of this, they were both taller than the average hobbit.

Lavish rooms could be found every few yards or so and located in the seating area were placed very comfortable chairs and a fire was crackling merrily in the hearth. Elanor went back to sleep in her mother's arms and did not move again.

Soon they were seated around the fire and chatting as they used to. They conversed about the goings-on in the Shire, and Frodo noted that the conversation was stilted, and often came a few moments after the speakers mouth actually began to move. As they spoke, Frodo was struck with another odd thought. Sam, Merry, Pippin, and Rose appeared to be the exact ages that they had been before Frodo's departure. Despairingly he realized that something was terribly wrong. Too much was had been out of the ordinary to be real.

Instantaneously, Frodo found himself outside in the fields, and he did not remember leaving. The sun was setting and dark shadows were starting to spread across the Shire, and Frodo frolicked about in the fields. He danced about without a care in the world, and threw himself upon the soft grass. Looking up, he could see the beautiful colours of red orange and some pink spreading across the sky.

He looked at the fluffy white clouds, and saw many things to be held in their depths. One of the clouds looked like a rabbit, which caused the hobbit to laugh. His laughter sounded strangely stilted, and delayed. He got up again, and proceeded to skip and dance about in the fields twirling about as he did so. The grass was cool on his feet as he hopped about. He picked flowers as he went along, smelling them and sticking them in his curly dark-auburn hair. He did not care how ridiculous he might look with flowers sticking out of his hair, for he wanted to enjoy as much as he could before he was forced back into reality. The hobbit twirled and spun causing the majority of the flowers to fall on his face, but this did not darken his mood. Instead, he picked them up and stuck the flowers back in his hair.

Frodo reached down and plucked a particularly pretty white flower and smelled it letting its fresh fragrance absorb him. Opening his eyes, Frodo saw that the flower had died in his hand. He looked down at his feet. Beneath his bare and furry feet, the grass was shrivelling and dying. Frodo looked up and saw that the grass all around him was slowly dying and curling up as though being burnt.

Frodo was much alarmed by this phenomenon until he felt heat on his face. Looking up, Frodo saw something coming towards him. It looked like a gigantic fireball. Frodo froze and found that he could no longer move, or speak. It was not a fireball moving across the now dead flowers, but a great Eye, lidless, wreathed in flame. It was the Eye of Sauron. It came towards Frodo and the familiar dark voice sounded terribly in his ears.

"You cannot hide," it thundered.

The Eye continued to close in on him, and the hobbit brought his hands up to his face to try and protect himself from its gaze. He felt his legs give way beneath him, and frantically tried to crawl away. He scrambled backwards until his back touched something hard, and he realized he had nowhere to go. The Eye did not stop, but bore down on the hobbit. Frodo brought up his hands again to try and protect himself and squeezed his eyes shut.

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Frodo woke, and sat up quickly from his sleep, panting heavily. His little body was covered in a cold sweat, which had caused his light mauve shirt, and breeches to stick to him. The large eyes of the hobbit darted from shadow to shadow, expecting the Eye to expose itself. Frodo tried to calm himself, but the Eye was fresh in his mind. Tormenting him once again, as it had twenty years before.

This torment had begun with a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins, one of the most respectable hobbits in the Shire. However, Bilbo had had a Took for a mother, and it was rumoured throughout Shire that one of the Tooks in the line of many, had taken a fairy for a wife. This was not quite believed by anyone, but it did make an explanation as to why it was always Tooks who would suddenly pack up and go seeking for adventure.

However, this Took-side of Bilbo remained dormant for quite some time. In fact it took until Bilbo Baggins had reached the ripe age of fifty-one, which is equivalent to approximately thirty to the Big Folk for hobbits do not age as rapidly as the Big Folk, for the Took-side to awaken. It was coincidental, to when Bilbo was outside on his porch that an old man passed by his hobbit-hole.

This old man was actually a wizard, and like most wizards, he went by some very different names. To the elves he was Mithrandir, in the common tongue the Grey Pilgrim, but he known mainly as Gandalf the Grey. Now Gandalf had been responsible for many quiet hobbits going on adventures, which were looked upon with great disdain by the majority of hobbit folk, and so was looked upon with many different views throughout the Shire. Most feared him, for he was, after all, a wizard. He was famous for his fireworks, and this was indeed the thing that Mr. Bilbo remembered with much excitement upon meeting the wizard. The day had started with a hearty "Good morning!" from Bilbo, and ended with the hobbit becoming the burglar and fourteenth member of a group of thirteen dwarves who were sitting in the dining room Bag End, talking about treasure, and mountains, and dragons.

Frodo was the adopted nephew of Bilbo Baggins, and had always been a bit unusual. He had been orphaned at nine years of age, when his parents drowned, and Bilbo had taken him in, and proclaimed him his nephew and heir to his belongings. He had always had a thirst for news of what was happening beyond the Shire, and Bilbo had certainly increased that thirst with stories of his adventure. However, it was because of Bilbo's adventure that Frodo had been forced out of the Shire.

Burglar Bilbo Baggins had found a Ring in the caverns of the Misty Mountains, and claimed it as his own. However, this was no ordinary Ring. It was the key to the power and destruction of the Shadow in the East. The Ring was one of the many unusual things that Bilbo had brought back from his adventure. And it was one of the things that Frodo had inherited.

"I destroyed The Ring," Frodo insisted to no one. "I destroyed it." Despite these words however, Frodo found himself filled with a fearsome doubt. Painfully, he recalled the events that had permanently altered his life.

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He had traveled endlessly with his loyal friend, Sam. Through the horrible Dead Marshes, through the dark caves surrounding Mordor, then into Mordor and right up to Mount Doom itself. The One Ring became such a burden that the hobbit had found he could no longer walk. Determined not to give up, he had begun to crawl up the side of the mountain. Sam then picked him up and carried him up the mountain, which was a big task for a hobbit.

Once inside, Frodo had bent under the power of The Ring and claimed it for his own. It was then that Gollum, who had led Frodo into Mordor, had run forwards. He bit off Frodo's finger that held The Ring. Gollum's had danced about in joy at reclaiming his Precious, but he strayed too close to the cracks of doom until he was balancing precariously on the edge. He teetered and fell over wailing, "Precious!" but Frodo had never seen The Ring disappear into the flames. It was still possible, though highly unlikely, that Gollum might have survived.

Frodo was much alarmed by these thoughts. Quickly he got out of his comfortable bed and scurried down the long hallway to the door. This he pushed open and ran as fast as his hobbit-legs could carry him across the meadow.

The meadow was large and had a lake in the middle filled with crystal-clear water. Out of this lake flowed a river, which babbled pleasantly with a sound of harps playing for all time which went forever down and eventually out to the large lakes of Middle-earth. The grass was lush, and always perfectly green, the sun always shone pleasantly, and occasionally it rained lightly. The evening sky was always splashed with stars. There was no evil here. Around the meadow hung a thin everlasting mist, which gave an unearthly tone about the whole place. Tall slender-white trees stood around the meadow, and reached up to the starlit skies with their fair branches of leafy green. The tiny flowers in the meadow, which lay spread out across the misty grass, were beginning to open, and showing a tiny bit of their golden petals.

Frodo rushed past, across the meadow where now the mist was beginning to rise just a bit, past the tall white trees, past the flowers, past the lake of crystal-clear water, across the river which was cool, and the pebbles on the bottom smooth, to the large group of tall white trees both fairer, and taller by far than the ones in the meadow. Into this he ran silently, taking care not to alert anyone. Though, this was not something that Frodo had to worry about, because he was a hobbit.

Hobbits are actually Halflings. Generally, they are little people about half the height of the Big Folk with good-natured faces, curly hair and a large capacity for food. Hobbits love to eat, and will eat eight meals a day if they can. On their feet there are no shoes, for the soles of their feet are tough, and they have curly hair on their feet that is the same as what is on their heads. They have no magic about them other than a superb sense of sight and hearing. They have the ability to move absolutely silently when needed. They are smaller than the bearded dwarves, and do not have beards. They are inclined to laugh, and make merry as they wish. They dress mostly in bright colours, especially green and yellow. Their ears are pointed like those of an elf but are not as fair to look at.

Frodo was even considered odd within these hobbit standards. He had even sharper senses than a hobbit because he had been stabbed with the blade of a Nazgûl and nearly became a wraith. Because of this, his hearing and sight had been sharpened almost painfully so he could move so quietly that not even another hobbit could hear him. And into the group of trees the hobbit ran.

In the center of the vast group of trees was a tree even fairer and taller than the ones around it. On this tree spiralled a large staircase marbled white, and reaching up through the mist, and up these stairs went the hobbit, panting though the air held no impurities as it does most obviously in the world.

Up the long endless stairs up through the mist he past and shivered at its cool, unearthly caress on his face. The stairs ended here, and in front of the hobbit towered two great gates, intricate and beautiful in design and delved of gold and silver it stood. Many odd and mysterious shapes were wound into those gates. Here and there a small gold or silver dragon snaked its way around. Gold and silver trees stood fair and tall and, occasionally a little gold or silver hobbit could be found. This and many more marvellous things were twisted into the great gates, and in front of these Frodo stood.

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By this time, the hobbit had calmed down and was debating whether he should bother waking the elves at this time. He raised his fist, but lowered it unsure of what he should do. Frodo paced in front of the gates and battled between telling Lady Galadriel now, or wait until morning. After all, his dream might have meant nothing, and he did not wish to waste Galadriel's time. Though Galadriel was The Lady of Light, she possessed a great and terrible power. She was a Ring-bearer, keeper of Nenya, one of The Three Great Rings bestowed upon the elves. If corrupted, Galadriel had the power to become the next Dark Lord.

After some time had passed, Frodo finally sat down, and thought it over. He knew that dreams were strange phenomena that often meant nothing at all, but were merely a collection of the thoughts of the dreamer. His thoughts were black, as he pondered the possible meaning of his vision. If The Ring had not been destroyed, then the forces of Evil would not have dwindled as they had that day. Evil would have endured.

These thoughts were as black as Evil itself. There was no light, no answers, or perhaps the answers were just as Evil, as the thoughts had been. Frodo felt as though he was lost in a Shadow of undefined hatred. Abruptly the great fiery Eye flashed across his mind, and the hobbit leapt to his feat, pounded on the _mithril_ gates with his fist, and waited anxiously, the Eye ever constant in his mind.

Finally the _mithril_ gates opened, and standing in the gateway was a single elf. Though Frodo knew that he had just woken him, the elf looked as fair as he always did. The moonlight shimmered down, and glittered on a white gem on a pendant that lay on the elf's bare chest.

This was the gem Evenstar, a gem given to Frodo by the elf-maiden Arwen. She had given her immortality for the mortal man Aragorn, and remained in Middle-earth when the rest of her race had left for The Undying Lands. She had allowed Frodo to take her place on the ship, and had blessed him with Evenstar to ease the pain of his journey. It was the symbol of elvish immortality, and so Frodo had given this pendant to the elf standing in front of him.

"Athelas, I need to speak with Galadriel," Frodo informed the elf. Athelas obviously thought this a strange request at such an hour, but he obliged to Frodo's request, and let him inside.

Athelas was an orphan. He had been named after the _athelas_ plant, which was an elvish plant with great healing abilities, and had partially saved Frodo's life from a wound from a Morgul blade. Athelas had been born shortly before the War of The Ring. He had aged as a Mortal would for the twenty years that had passed. Time was immortal in The Undying Lands, and now Athelas was included as the immortal being that he was.

Athelas seemed to have the appearance of any other elf from Lothlórien. He had long light-blond hair that was straight and fell just below his shoulders. He had pointed ears, a tall and slender body that though muscular, was light enough to leave no marks upon any surface. And despite his age, he was wise. His eyes, however, set him apart from the normal elf. His eyes were of an amber quality that penetrated all under their gaze.

Athelas loved stories. This was because he had not known the real world as everyone else, and was unaccustomed to the dangers, happiness, and pleasures that life could bring. Like all other elves, Athelas had been taught how to defend himself with a bow and arrow, and daggers, and was an expert archer. He was an expert swordsman as well.

Since he was an infant, Athelas had never had parents, for both of his had been killed in the War of The Ring. Galadriel had taken him in until the elves passed into The Undying Lands and from that time, Frodo had looked after him. The hobbit had taught Athelas how to move silently so that even a hobbit with their sharp ears would have difficulty hearing him. Along with this skill, and some others, Frodo, to some extent, had taught Athelas how to fight with a sword. This skill the elf learned quickly and was now equally dangerous with a sword as he was with a bow. But now, as he led Frodo to the realm of Lady Galadriel, he was armed with neither sword nor bow.

Frodo followed the elf to where The Lady of the Wood kept her stay. Again he began to feel doubtful that his vision was worth her time at this hour of the night, but even as he thought this, the Eye ripped through his mind causing his breath to catch in his throat. Athelas looked down at the hobbit with concern, but said nothing. Finally they halted by another staircase. Frodo brought his hand to his head, trying to rid his mind of the great Eye that was haunting him.

Frodo glanced up and saw The Lady descending towards him. She was by far taller than he, and yet now more than ever did she seem to tower over him. Her golden hair was crowned with a silver circlet, and flowed down her back, and over her shoulders. Her gown was pure-white with sleeves extending below the hands of the elf, and the front exposed the pale skin of her upper chest, and had a sliver brooch on the bosom of the dress. On her finger was Nenya, and on her face was a mysterious smile that suggested that she knew something that no one else did.

She looked down upon Frodo, her blue eyes penetrating him, and the hobbit felt his clothes being stripped away until he was standing vulnerable in front of her. He shifted uncomfortably, and she bore even deeper, into the core of his being, probing his very soul, learning his darkest secrets, his wildest passions, and his deepest fears.

Finally she released him from her gaze, and Frodo was relieved to find himself still fully clothed. He wondered how long she had held him in her gaze. He knew that not many could endure Galadriel's penetrating gaze for very long. Frodo shivered slightly, and rubbed his arms. Reluctantly he lowered his hands to his sides, and waited for her to speak.

"Your thoughts are black," she said softly. "What is it that you are dwelling upon that has the colour of such Evil?"

"Evil, Lady," Frodo replied. "I saw the Eye. After all these years of peace from it, it's come to haunt me again."

"I knew that it was only a matter of time before the truth would be revealed," Galadriel said softly. "The Shadow in the East has been growing in my mind. Even from across the Sea."

"What does it mean?" Frodo asked hesitantly.

"I think that you can answer that question Frodo," she looked down upon him keenly, and Frodo squirmed underneath her gaze.

"I failed," he replied, averting his eyes from hers, and dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. "I've caused the survival of the Dark Lord." He paused and raised his eyes again. "And I must stop Him."

"These are indeed ill tidings, Lady," a female elven voice spoke from the shadows above the stairs. "Should Elrond be informed? If the war for Middle-earth has not been finished then we must take action!"

"Yes Eáránë," Galadriel replied, and two elves descended the staircase.

"I will go tell Elrond then," Eáránë took Frodo's breath away. She had jet-black hair was pulled into tiny braids by her temples, and was dressed in a beautiful black dress. This dress was unlike anything the Halfling had ever seen before. The bodice was stiff with slight boned edges that traveled down to the end of the bodice, which tapered, into a v-shape at her waist. The bosom of the dress exposed her upper chest, and was decorated with black flowers that extended onto the slender straps that went over her shoulders. Her eyes were a grey-blue that gazed at him intently, and Frodo found that he could not take his eyes off of her.

"Tell Elrond to gather his best warriors and healers to be ready for departure by sunrise tomorrow," Galadriel instructed. Eáránë nodded and departed back up the staircase. Frodo noted that the back of her dress was low and tied with cords, and that the skirt was split below the knee and became a semi-transparent train with the same black flowers as the front.

Frodo turned back to Galadriel, and she gazed down upon him, a grim expression upon her mysterious face. Frodo felt as though he was shrinking and quivered as he was stripped of everything he had.

"Do not worry so, Ring-bearer," Galadriel said finally. Frodo sighed, as she released him from her gaze, and he returned to his normal height. "I know that you are distressed." She said softly. "As soon as I hear word from Elrond, I will send a messenger to inform you of our plans. Until then, prepare yourself for the trip back to Middle-earth. The time of the elves is over, but I will not let Middle-earth stand alone in its fight." With this being said, Galadriel turned and ascended the staircase, and disappeared into the shadows.

Frodo stood at the base of the stairs momentarily, and then turned and walked slowly down the hallway. His vision was black, and his entire body hunched in defeat. Methodically, he walked down the stairs and towards his hobbit-hole.

As he neared his home, he passed a tombstone, and stopped to gaze down at it. On the stone was carved, "Here Lies Bilbo Baggins, the One Who Started it All." On the next line was engraved, "2890 – 3035". Frodo sighed and stared angrily at the cold stone surface. He wished in vain that Bilbo had never left him The Ring. He did know though that if he had not had to carry The Ring, someone else would have had to, and that was not a thought that the hobbit cared much for. He would not wish his suffering upon any being. It was his task, and he had to finish it. Frodo set his jaw, being gloomy was not about to solve anything. He looked at his hobbit-hole with a grim determination. The door was still open from his haste to tell Galadriel of his dream.

Closing the door behind him, Frodo went into his room, opened his closet, and took out an old backpack. He carried it to the bed, and dumped out the contents onto the mattress. Frodo did not even look at the contents on his bed, but went back to his closet, and pulled out an older change of clothing, and put them on. Going back to the closet, he pulled out a fabric-wrapped object. Carefully unwrapping the red folds, Frodo drew unwrapped his elvish sword Sting, in its sheath. Fingers trembling, Frodo took hold of Sting's handle, and drew out the sword. The hobbit gazed at the blade, re-sheathed it, and placed it beside the bed.

Frodo worked quickly so that he would have as much time as possible to gather his things together. The hobbit trotted into his kitchen and began taking out food from the vast pantries. Though Frodo lacked the endless appetite of an ordinary hobbit, he knew that the journey ahead of him was long, and he would need a lot of sustenance. Frodo decided to bide his time by baking some cookies for the long road. He knew that _lembas_ would grow to become quite despised as the time passed, and so wanted to make a variety for him to eat.

Tying an apron around his slim waist, Frodo began to gather his ingredients, and soon was bustling about, popping baking sheets into the oven. He had just taken his third batch out, when there was a knock on his door.

"I'll be there in a moment," Frodo called, and trotted to the door trying to dust the flour off of his shirt. Opening the door, he discovered Eáránë standing gracefully upon the mat. "Come in, come in," Frodo insisted. Eáránë ducked her head, and entered the hobbit-hole.

"So you are Frodo Baggins," she said. Frodo nodded, and she smiled down at him. "I am Eáránë Elensar. I have heard many things about you."

"Really," Frodo inquired cautiously.

"You are to be credited Frodo," Eáránë replied quietly. "You took a burden that none wished to take, and you took it into Mordor, into the heart of Mount Doom, and only then did The Ring finally corrupt you."

Frodo shuddered at the thought of the hell that he had been through so many years ago. It almost did not seem real, and yet his illness and pains were enough to prove him otherwise. He lowered his eyes, unable to deal with the reality that had caused his perfectly happy life to alter forever.

"Are you coming to Middle-earth as well?" Frodo inquired at length.

"Yes, I am an Elvish Healer," she replied. "We do not know what it is that lies ahead of us, but we need all the help we can get."

Eáránë placed her hand gently on Frodo's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The Halfling glanced momentarily up at her, and felt some of his pain lesson. Some of the weight was lifted from his chest, and he breathed easier. Eáránë noticed a pleasant aroma, and recognized it as the smell of something baking.

"Are you cooking something?" she asked curiously. Frodo jumped, looked at her apologetically, and then ran down the hallway. Grabbing an oven-mitt, he opened up the oven, pulled his cookies out, and set them down on the counter. He looked up to see Eáránë duck her head and gracefully enter.

"Sorry about that," he apologized breathlessly. "I didn't want them to burn."

"Do not apologize," Eáránë smiled. "I do not mind." Then she asked. "What are these?"

"Shortbread cookies," the hobbit replied. "I figured that I'd probably get sick of _lembas_ at some point." He smiled grimly.

"You have not made an overabundance," Eáránë mused.

"I lack the rampant appetite of a normal hobbit," Frodo replied softly. "I lost it many years ago, and simply didn't regain it."

"May I have one?" Eáránë inquired.

"Of course," Frodo smiled. "Help yourself. I'm going to put these into tins for the journey." Frodo went to the cupboard and pulled down some tins. Taking them over to the counter, he could see Eáránë pick up one, and bite into it.

"These are delicious!" the elf exclaimed. Frodo smiled, and began to put the cookies closest to him into the tin.

"So you told Elrond of the news?" he asked softly.

Eáránë swallowed before answering, "Yes." Was all she said.Eáránë picked up another cookie, and crossed the space between herself and the Halfling. Frodo watched her curiously, as she came and stood beside him. "Have a cookie." She said simply. Frodo was too surprised to do otherwise, and opened his mouth while continuing to put cookies into the tin. Eáránë placed the cookie into his mouth, and as she withdrew her fingers, they brushed against the sensitive skin of Frodo's lips. Frodo felt his pulse increase in pace, and his breathing come a bit faster into his lungs. Feelings that were unknown to the hobbit coursed through his small body. He felt as though he was excited and terrified simultaneously. Frodo chewed on the shortbread slowly. Despite these feelings, he liked Eáránë's presence.

Gradually the hobbit became aware that Eáránë was watching him. He glanced up at the elf and she held him in her gaze momentarily and smiled at him. Frodo felt his heart skip a beat. Confused, he closed the tin, and placed it on the counter-top.

"Are you not bringing those on the journey?" Eáránë asked, another smile breaking the serious expression on her elvish face.

"Yes, I was just thinking," Frodo replied softly. Eáránë's smile turned to a one of understanding. "I'm going to put this into my pack, in my room." He picked up the tin, and carried it down the hall and into his room. Placing it down of the bed, Frodo returned to the kitchen and began to gather other food. He picked out some apples, a loaf of bread, and some sausages. He glanced up, and noted that Eáránë was placing the cookies around her into tins.

"Thanks," he meant it. She smiled.

"I thought I might as well make myself useful," she explained, and picked up the now full tins of cookies. Frodo led her into his room, carrying the other food in his arms.

"You can just put the tins on the bed for now," Frodo felt a bit self conscious that his room was in such a bad state. Eáránë did as she was told, and looked around the hobbit's room.

Finally she turned her gaze back onto the Halfling, "Well it was a pleasure to meet you Frodo Baggins…"

"Wait!" Frodo exclaimed stopping the elf in mid-sentence. "You don't have to leave."

"You still have much to pack," Eáránë replied. "I should let you get on with your preparations."

"Please stay," Frodo pleaded. He knew that she would not understand his urgency for her to stay. He did not thoroughly comprehend his desperation either, but he liked her presence, and he hated being alone, and he knew that he would be alone for a very long period of time.

Eáránë raised her eyebrows at the Halfling, but glided over to the bed, and began to place the tins into Frodo's pack. She did not speak, but simply turned her attention to the contents that Frodo had dumped out of his pack. She picked up the shirt of _mithril_ and inspected it quietly while Frodo continued to place food into his pack.

"_Mithril_," she murmured running her fingers over the beautiful craft. "Is it true that your uncle found this in a Troll cave?"

Frodo laughed quietly, "No Bilbo received the shirt of mail from Smaug's lair."

"Of course," Eáránë shook her head. "I knew that one of the gifts that your uncle gave you was from the lair of Smaug, and the other was from the Troll's lair." She carefully placed the shirt of _mithril_ into Frodo's pack.

"Sting was from the Troll's lair," Frodo replied as he placed the leftover _lembas_ into his pack. Eáránë picked up Sting, and drew the sword from its sheath.

"You will need this blade," she informed the hobbit sadly. "The War for Middle-earth has only just begun." Frodo sighed. Hearing that from Eáránë was torture.

"It should've ended twenty years ago," his soft voice was sullen, and he sat down on the bed. He glanced up at Eáránë, but her attention was still focused on Sting. Finally the elf placed Sting back into its sheath and examined the clothing that Frodo wore to bed.

"Rivendell healing garments," she said sadly and looked up at Frodo her eyes resting upon the spot on his left shoulder were the wound was located. Her eyes seemed to penetrate his clothing, so that the hobbit felt as though she was looking directly at the wound.

Frodo suddenly realized with horror that the Phial of Galadriel was missing. He was pretty sure that he had dumped it onto the bed along with the other things, yet it was not there. Frantically he began to search his room.

"What are you looking for?" Eáránë asked.

"The phial that Galadriel gave me," the hobbit replied. Eáránë glided towards him, and held up the phial.

"Is this it?" she asked softly, and she placed it into his hand, her fingers brushing his fingers. Again the hobbit felt his pulse and breathing increase in pace. Breathlessly he nodded at the elf's question.

"It is beautiful," she murmured softly, running her slender fingers over the delicate grooves of the phial. They were so close to coming in contact with his fingers as he held the phial in his trembling hand. Frodo noticed how her fingers moved over the glass and he began to notice the slight incline of her head, the gentle arc of her neck, the exact way her black gown fitted her slender frame. She looked up and his eyes locked with hers.

Eáránë saw so much pain reflected in the beautiful depths of his eyes, so much torment, so much suffering, so much that she felt should not have been there. Eáránë wondered how such an innocent creature could endure such a burden for such a length of time.

Abruptly, the elf realized how far she was delving into the Halfling. With embarrassment she released him from her gaze, and looked down at the phial again.

"I can only hope that the phial will bring you hope when you feel you have none left," she smiled sadly.

"I expect that that'll happen," Frodo replied, his soft voice barely even audible. "Last time, I lost faith in everyone around me. I have to do this alone just so that I don't cause anyone any extra grief."

"Completing such a task single-handedly is not a simple matter," Eáránë retorted. "To take The Ring of Power to the place it was forged, and cast it into the chasm of Evil is not a task many could complete. You must bear this in mind the next time you start belittling yourself."

Frodo sighed and Eáránë knelt before him so that she could regard him eye to eye, "I have also heard that hobbits are capable of much more than they appear." She said with an encouraging smile. "But if you should lose hope, try to remember that your companions believe in you. I believe in you. I will always believe in you no matter what the circumstances."

She smiled at him, and placed her hand on his cheek. She looked down upon the phial again, and her eyes narrowed. Gently she took the Halfling's hand and turned it over.

"Oh this will not do at all," she said looking down upon Frodo's missing finger, and she gently clasped her hands around his. "Tultanyë i valasa i quendi, an entulessë i lepsë man i Periannath vanwa an i Oronsa Ambar." Frodo felt warmth spread across his hand, and when Eáránë removed her hands from his, all of the fingers were intact.

"Thank-you," he breathed. Eáránë inclined her slightly, a small smile on her face.

"The Lady has also told me to inform you to meet by the lake at dawn," she said. "Get some rest, you will need it." Frodo showed her to the door, and then returned to his room. He got undressed and changed into traveling clothes. He folded his change of clothing and placed it into his pack and fastened it. Then clutching the phial to his breast he lay down and finally passed into a restless sleep.

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**Translations in order of appearance:**

I summon the Angelic Power of the Elves, to return the finger that the Halfling lost to the Mountain of Doom


	3. Chapter 2 Departure from Eldamar

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Comments: ****If you haven't read the originals, I strongly recommend that you do!**

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_**Chapter 2**_

Departure from Eldamar

Frodo again woke with a start, his sharp eyes adjusting immediately to the dim light. He sat up, put the phial of Galadriel on his bed, and got out of his bed. He hoped that he was not late for the departure for Middle-earth. Being woken up, and going back to sleep, had thrown his sense of time off. Quickly he went to his closet, and pulled out his maroon-brown jacket, and threw it on overtop of his clothes. All of his possessions had been lost during his journey, but had been somehow retrieved and returned to him before the departure from Middle-earth.

The one thing that he was especially glad that had been returned to him was his grey Lórien cloak, which he pulled down from the closet. The Lórien cloak was made of a silky material that was surprisingly warm, and could camouflage with most environments. He unpinned the leaf broach, and ran his fingers over his name engraved in the back, and then put the cloak on over his jacket, and fastened it with the broach.

The hobbit picked up his pack and put it onto his slim shoulders. He was now ready to return to Middle-earth, and prepared for the journey that he dreaded to take, but knew that he must take, the black road to Mordor, to the dwelling of the Shadow, to the unspeakable Evil lurking in the great tower of Barad-dûr, to The Land of Sauron.

Frodo glanced outside and saw that the sun was just beginning to raise her head above the horizon, and muttered quietly, "Galadriel said to be ready by dawn." With this being said he left the hobbit-hole and headed to the crystal filled lake in the middle of the silver field. Frodo could see the white boats that the elves had traveled to The Undying Lands bobbing gently upon its glassy surface. He spotted Eáránë amidst the throng of eves and picked his way towards her. He noted that Eáránë and many of the other elves were cloaked. Over her black dress, Eáránë was wearing a grey Lórien cloak fastened with a delicate leaf brooch just as he was.

"Hello Eáránë," Frodo said when he was close enough to the elf. She turned, looked down at him and smiled.

"Hello Frodo," she returned and the hobbit again felt an increase in his pulse and respiration. "Are you ready to leave? It is a perilous time that lies ahead of us, especially for you."

"I'm determined to complete my task," Frodo replied.

Gently Eáránë placed her hands on Frodo's shoulders and led him to one of the boats. Frodo looked up at the vessel with its one lantern on the bow shining softly through the ascending mist. The side of the boat was just below eye-level for the Halfling, and Frodo could see Athelas on deck and some five other elves that he did not recognize.

"Athelas the Ring-bearer needs assistance," Eáránë said softly and the elf came to the side of the boat and lifted Frodo onto the vessel. The hobbit took a seat and Eáránë lowered herself gracefully down beside him. The water was as still as glass as the vessels began their departure from the shore. Frodo could see nothing but silver mist at first. But then the presence of some hundred other boats were pronounced by the appearance of their lamps. Though he was surrounded by the presence of thousands of other elves, loneliness began to creep upon his soul. Gradually his weariness overcame him and he slowly fell asleep.

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Frodo woke to ice-cold rain hammering down upon his face. He could hear anxious voices saying, "We are being blown off of our course!" Frodo opened his eyes to see Athelas tugging at the white sails of the boat. Abruptly a wave swept across the deck and Frodo felt the impact push him into the sea. He struggled to the surface of the water and clung on to the side of the boat. Another wave hit and Frodo felt the slippery wood wrench away from his fingertips. He cried out in terror as another wave washed over him. As he sank he felt something moving against his leg. Desperately Frodo tried to swim to the surface. The turbulent water crashed him against the side of the boat and he felt someone grab his wrist and pull him on board. Frodo got unsteadily to his feet and began to help pull the sails down. The minutes passed as though they were hours as they battled against the storm.

Gradually the wind died down. The waves calmed and the pouring rain became light drizzle, and then finally passed altogether. Frodo glanced over the side of the boat. All around them was water. There was no sign of any of the other vessels.

"Is everyone alright?" Athelas asked.

"All are present and accounted for," Eáránë replied and she turned to look at Frodo. "You were almost lost Ring-bearer." She said softly, gently placing her hand on his cheek. Frodo felt his face become hot. "We feared the worst when the waters claimed you. Thankfully Athelas heard your plea for help and managed to rescue you from the cruel depths of the sea." The hobbit felt the blood drain from his cheeks as he remembered how he had felt something moving against his leg. Eáránë saw the hobbit's face become pale. "What is wrong Frodo?" She asked concern evident in her voice.

"There's something down there," Frodo said softly. The elves all looked over the edge of the boat warily.

"Let us not worry ourselves with what creatures roam the depths of these waters," one of the elves that Frodo had seen Eáránë speaking with suggested. "In the meantime we are approaching land." Frodo looked up and saw the shore of Middle-earth coming towards them.

When the vessel was close enough to the shore, Athelas jumped out and began to push the boat onto the bank. The remainder of the elves glided from the boat. Frodo climbed onto the bench, which he had been seated upon and went to the edge of the boat. Awkwardly he attempted to clamber over the side of the boat but he lost his footing and fell headlong into Eáránë's arms. Time seemed to stop. Frodo could feel her hands against his back, and he could feel her cool skin underneath his palms and realized with shock that his hands were pressed against the skin of her upper chest. The elf placed him gently to the ground and pulled gracefully away from him.

"Where is everybody?" Frodo asked at length. The shore was empty as they stood upon it, and there were no signs of boats on the horizon. "Do you think the others are alright?" He asked.

"Those ships have capable captains," Eáránë replied. "They will make their way here in time."

"Let us move on," Athelas suggested. "Leave the boat as a sign that we have arrived. We will meet the others in the Shire."

"How'll they know where we've headed?" Frodo asked.

"The elves have their ways of knowing these things Frodo," Eáránë replied mysteriously.

"We should get going before it gets dark," interrupted Athelas. "Where are we going to stay until the rest of our kin arrives?"

"I know someone who'll welcome us," Frodo replied softly.

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Sam Gamgee was sitting at the table in the kitchen. Rose had polished this table only yesterday so it gleamed proudly. Around the table sat Rose and Sam's children. Frodo, who Sam had named after his friend, and master, Frodo Baggins, had turned fifteen, and didn't know what to think of it. Rose, who had been named after her mother, Rose Cotton, had turned thirteen, and was very proud of it. Merry, who was named after Meriadoc Brandybuck, liked to boast that he was eleven to his younger brother Pippin, who had been named after Peregrin Took, who was nine. Goldilocks was seven, and Hamfast was a year younger than she, being six, and Daisy was a year younger than he, being five. Primrose was three, and quite a pretty little thing. Bilbo, who was named after Bilbo Baggins, was only one, and was certainly giving his mother a difficult time. Elanor was the eldest. She had turned seventeen and spent a lot of time with her friend Rosie-Posie. Now was one of those times. All of Sam's children were lovely, and he loved them immensely.

The family was happily seated around the shiny table enjoying their fourth cake for supper, when a loud knock banged through the hall. Sam got up, and trotted to the door. He was not expecting anyone, and he was especially not expecting what stood on his welcome mat. Ten figures hooded and cloaked stood in front of him. One was about the same size as he was, but the others towered well above him. Sam immediately adapted his mayor stance.

"Welcome to the Shire," he said politely. "I'm Mayor Gamgee, what can I do for you?"

"You can give us a place to stay," replied one of the figures.

"Now see here," said Sam, a bit taken aback by the figure's upfront manor. "I can't just let you waltz into the place that my master left me. It's not how things are done you see, and besides I don't even know who you are."

"That is of no consequence," the figure replied. "One of our companions said that you would be happy to have us."

"Oh did they now?" Sam challenged. "Well I'm afraid that your companion's mistaken, and a fool at that."

"How dare you speak of my companion in this manor!" the figure's male voice raised in anger.

"It's alright Athelas," the figure directly in front of Sam spoke, and the voice was painfully familiar to the hobbit, but he could not quite place where it was that he would have heard it. "The companion can speak for himself." And he reached up and pulled back his hood. Sam's eyes widened as he recognized the hobbit in front of him.

"Mr. Frodo?" he asked, his voice shaking with emotion. A slight smile broke the other's solemn face.

"Hello Sam," he replied.

"Frodo," Sam exclaimed, and threw his arms around the other, and held him tightly. Frodo returned his friend's embrace."Come in all of you," Sam insisted. "Please come in. You'll have to forgive my rudeness. I didn't know who you were."

"You're forgiven Sam," Frodo assured him, and the rest of the figures trooped in onto the rug, one by one pulling back their hoods, and revealing their faces.

"Elves," Sam exclaimed in puzzled astonishment. "But I thought they left."

"They did Sam," Frodo answered. "But there will be an explanation for their actions."

By this time, Primrose, who was the most curious because of her young age, had poked her head around the corner of the hallway. When the hobbit-child saw the nine elves standing upon the rug, she gave a small scream and fled.

"What was that?" one of the elves asked.

"Just a hobbit-child Athelas," an elven woman replied. "The poor thing must have never seen elves before."

"I've told all my children about the elves," Sam replied. "But they've never seen elves, so naturally they're frightened."

"Frodo," Rose inquired, and she came forward.

"Hello Rosie," Frodo said with a smile. Rose's eyes lit up, and she threw her arms around him. She was dressed in a blue frock that Frodo remembered seeing her in at Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday.

"Welcome back Frodo," she said warmly. "Welcome all of you. Please remove your cloaks, and make yourselves comfortable!"

"You can hang your cloaks on the hooks," Frodo gestured to some hooks on the wall.

"You know this place very well Frodo," noted Athelas. Frodo smiled sadly.

"That's because I used to live here Athelas," he explained, "a long time ago. This is Bag End. I left it in Sam's care when I left for The Undying Lands."

Bag End was famous throughout Hobbiton, an area in the Shire known for its respectable hobbits. Bilbo's father, Mr. Bungo Baggins, had built it for his wife, Belladonna Took. It was the most luxurious hobbit-hole in the Shire. The Bagginses had lived very comfortably in that hobbit-hole for many years, and that was how it had acquired the name Bag End.

The elves removed their cloaks, and soon three silvery-purple cloaks and six grey cloaks hung on the wall. Frodo removed his pack and hung it onto one of the hooks. He also removed his Lórien cloak and his jacket, and hung them on the same hook.

"Come into the parlour," Sam insisted. The elves and Frodo followed Sam into the parlour, and Sam had to fetch some more chairs, but soon all of the elves were seated by the fire. Rose joined him carrying an infant, and eventually the rest of the family came into the parlour.

"Quite a family you have got here," Athelas said with a mischievous smile. "Been busy these past few years have you?" Sam flushed a deep red. The elf laughed gaily.

"Athelas that wasn't polite," Frodo lectured the elf. He turned to Sam. "You'll have to forgive Athelas. He doesn't know the ways of the world."

"That's alright Mr. Frodo," Sam muttered, still red. "I'd like to introduce you to my family. This is Bilbo our youngest."

"And how old are you," Frodo asked the youngster. Bilbo had blonde fuzz and deep-blue eyes. The infant gurgled and grinned toothlessly up at the hobbit.

"He's one," replied Rose.

"I'm three," and a pretty little hobbit-lass in a violet frock came forward. Her hair was dark-blonde like her mother's, and she had light brown eyes.

"And what's your name?" Frodo asked gently.

"Primrose," she returned.

"That's a pretty name," Frodo smiled. "It suits you." Primrose laughed and smiled up at him.

"My name's Daisy," the speaker was dressed in a yellow frock and she had light-brown hair, and light blue eyes. "I'm five."

"Hello Daisy," said Frodo. "I'm Frodo."

"You have a nice name," said Daisy.

"Thank-you," Frodo laughed.

"My name's Hamfast," a hobbit-lad with dirty-blonde hair and sparkling-blue eyes dressed in a white shirt, green vest, and brown breeches said proudly. "I'm six."

"My name's Goldilocks," another girl came forward. She was dressed in red had strawberry-blonde hair, and light-blue eyes. "I'm seven."

"Goldilocks," Frodo repeated softly. "That name suits you. Your hair almost looks golden."

"Thank-you," Goldilocks grinned.

"I'm nine," said a boy with white-blonde hair, and dark-blue eyes. He was dressed simply in brown breeches and a white shirt.

"I'm still older than you," said another boy with brown hair, and brown eyes, in a mocking tone. "You know Pippin, no matter how old you get you're never going to catch up with me." He was dressed identically to his brother, to the seeming annoyance of the other.

"That's not nice Merry," Sam scolded his son. "Just because you're eleven gives you no right to hassle your brother."

"I'm thirteen," said a girl the splitting image of her mother quietly, edging forward shyly. "My name's Rose." She like her mother was dressed in a pretty blue frock.

"That could get confusing," Frodo said with a laugh. "Not only do you look like your mother, but you're also named after her. You're very pretty." He smiled at her, and the young Rose blushed.

"And this," said Sam proudly presenting a boy dressed in brown breeches, a white shirt, blue vest, with dark-blond hair, and bright blue eyes, "is Frodo." Frodo laughed.

"You finally got your wish didn't you Sam?" he smiled.

"Yes I did Mr. Frodo," answered Sam happily. Frodo's sharp hearing caught the sound of the door opening, and in came a young hobbit-woman with golden-blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes, and a golden dress. She looked at the elves and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Dad are these elves?" the hobbit asked wonderstruck.

"Yes," Sam nodded, "from Eldamar."

"The Undying Lands," she breathed. She turned and looked at Frodo and her eyes widened. "Uncle Frodo?" She asked excitedly.

"Hello Elanor," Frodo smiled at her. Elanor ran to him, and embraced him.

"Dad's told me so much about you," she said. "I was afraid I'd never get the chance to meet you." She pulled back.

Sam began to stand up, "If you two don't mind standing momentarily." He said. "I'll go get chairs for you."

"Are the chairs still kept in the same place Sam?" Frodo asked. Sam started, and then laughed.

"Why yes Mr. Frodo," He beamed. "I haven't changed a thing since you left Bag-End to me."

"I'll get the chairs then," Frodo volunteered, and he stood up. As he passed out of the parlour, he could not help but smile to himself. Sam had been true to his word. Not a thing had been changed since Frodo had lived in Bag-End.

Despite this fact, Frodo did have to jog his memory a little as to where to find the chairs. It had after all been seventeen years since he had been in Bag-End, and his memory was a little rusty. He did find the chairs eventually, and returned to the parlour.

"I still can't believe that the elves have come back," Elanor's excited voice could be heard from inside the room.

"You probably should not be so excited," Eáránë's voice was grim. "The Time of the Elves is over."

"Then why are you in Middle-earth?" Elanor asked excitedly.

"Yes why are you in Middle-earth?" Sam's tone was a bit more hesitant then that of his daughter.

"Because the Ring wasn't destroyed Sam," Frodo replied as he entered the room. A heaviness descended that could have been sliced with a knife. Frodo placed the two chairs down for Elanor, and Rosie-Posie.

"What," Sam asked, his voice trembling. Frodo looked up at him, his large blue eyes hard.

"I failed Sam," he replied. "The Ring wasn't destroyed." He paused. "I can feel it."

"So that's why you're here," Sam's face was white, "to fight against the armies of Sauron when they arise." The elves nodded in unison. "And I thought the horror was over."

"I'm sorry Sam," Frodo's soft voice quavered with emotion.

"Sam," Rose interrupted softly. "The children need to be put to bed."

"Of course Rose, my love," Sam immediately set aside his grief. "My, the time's flown hasn't it? Dear me, how late has it become?"

"Not very late Sam, but I don't think that such a topic is suitable for children," Rose explained and she turned to Elanor. "That includes you." She said firmly. "You may find what's transpired in the morning."

"Do you need any help Sam?" Frodo asked.

"Actually that'd be great Mr. Frodo," Sam smiled sheepishly. "Sometimes it takes an hour to get these mischievous little ones into bed." The children giggled.

"We will assist you," Eáránë suggested. "Things will go much faster that way, and therefore will enable us to discuss these matters later." Athelas stood up, carrying Merry on his back. Eáránë ushered a delighted Goldilocks out of the room, and was followed by Athelas. Other elves escorted the remainder of the children out of the room.

"Can I show you my room?" Frodo turned and looked at Sam's eldest son. The younger Frodo gazed at him intently.

"Of course," Frodo obliged, and he smiled at the teen. The other smiled, and led him into the hallway.

"I wanted your room actually," he said. "But Dad said no one could have it. I guess he was hoping you'd come back, then you'd have your old room back." Frodo smiled at Sam's thoughtfulness. "I suppose it was a way of denial for Dad." The teen continued, and he looked at Frodo. "Sort of a way of preserving you, you know?"

"Sam went through a lot," Frodo replied quietly. "I put him through a lot. I'm surprised that he wanted to preserve me."

"Well you were his closest friend," the other interjected, and opened the door to a room that Frodo had not seen in years. It was his old room. Frodo felt his heart twist painfully. It was just the way that he had left it all those years ago.

"My room is just down the hall," Frodo Gamgee explained. The Ring-bearer followed him slowly. He looked at the teen, and his heart twisted again. Such innocence he had once possessed as well, and now he had become only a shadow. The teen gave Frodo a tour of his room. It was filled with things that a hobbit-lad of that age would possess. Frodo's heart ached with a pain that he did not quite understand.

"Tell me about the Ring," the younger Frodo pleaded. The Ring-bearer looked at him through hardened eyes and the teen flinched slightly. Frodo sighed, and allowed a slight smile to lighten his features.

It was torture for him to re-tell the horrors of his life, but he did it to the best of his ability. He actually enjoyed telling his story to the younger Frodo. The teen would gasp, and laugh, and cry at all the appropriate times. The time slipped by and Frodo noticed that the teen had fallen into a deep sleep. He looked down upon the other and his heart ached painfully.

"That must have been difficult," Frodo jumped at Eáránë's voice. He could not help but wonder how long she had been standing there.

"How long were you listening?" he asked, he voice cracked.

"Long enough," she replied. Frodo turned to face her, and was surprised to see that his vision was blurred slightly. "What is wrong?" She asked gently.

"I don't know," he answered softly. He looked at the sleeping hobbit, and then at the elf. "It hurts to see them." He lowered his eyes. "I was like them once. And now…" Unable to continue, Frodo choked slightly, and turned away from the elf. Eáránë glided over to him, and gently put her slender hand on his quivering shoulder.

"Come," she said softly. And she led him out of the room. His pain remained with him as he entered the parlour where the elves were seated.

"You have wonderful children Sam," he said.

"Well thank-you Mr. Frodo," Sam beamed. "I'm inclined to agree with you." His tone became a bit darker. "Now what's this about the Ring?"

"Gollum survived," Frodo explained.

"Ah, Stinker," Sam snorted, "but how?"

"Such information is not pertinent," Eáránë replied shortly. "What matters is that the Ring is still in this world, and something must be done."

"Well it only makes sense that as much of the Fellowship of the Ring is assembled," exclaimed Sam.

"I don't ask you to come with me Sam," Frodo said quickly. "With what I put you through before…"

"I made a promise Mr. Frodo," Sam insisted. "'Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee,' and I don't mean to Mr. Frodo, I don't mean to."

"Thank-you Sam," Frodo meant his words.

"Shouldn't there be more elves than this?" Sam asked.

"Yes, they all got lost coming here," replied Athelas. "There was a storm."

"Well we should go and talk to Merry, and Pippin Mr. Frodo," Sam suggested. "In the meantime I think sleep is in order. Hopefully Middle-earth is ready this time."

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Frodo did not sleep that night. He lay awake clutching the phial of Galadriel to his breast. He knew that he should at least try to get some sleep, but he could not. He lay awake, and thought about what lay before him. The time went by painfully slowly and yet too quickly. The Halfling had just closed his eyes when he heard a loud knocking on the front door. Quietly he got up, walked to the door, and opened it.

"Frodo, I thought I would find you here," an old weatherworn man dressed in great robes of white under a cloak of grey stood on the welcome mat. He was holding a white wooden staff, and his keen eyes burned under his bushy eyebrows, and his crooked nose cast a queer shadow onto his face.

"Gandalf," Frodo gave the wizard a hug.

"Did you get any rest at all?" Gandalf the White asked. He seemed harmless, but could be quite terrible and threatening when the need was called for. Frodo shook his head, and Gandalf frowned as he stooped and entered the hobbit-hole.

"What's all this banging?" Sam asked yawning widely.

"Well, well," the wizard smiled. "Samwise Gamgee, Mayor of the Shire. Such a meeting I did not expect."

"Mr. Gandalf, sir?" Sam asked his eyes widening.

Soon a chorus of children's voices cried out, "Gandalf, it's Gandalf!"

"My, word does spread fast here doesn't it?" Gandalf asked as Sam's children stood awe-struck before him.

"Well I've told them about your fireworks see…" Sam began.

"Fireworks, fireworks!" the hobbit-children cheered.

"Confound you for your big mouth," the wizard exclaimed with affection.

"What's all this noise?" asked Elanor. When she saw Gandalf she stopped and stood staring, her mouths hanging open.

"It is not polite to stand with your mouth hanging in such a fashion," Gandalf said. There was a snap as the hobbit-lass shut her mouths.

"Gandalf," Eáránë came forward. "Have the others arrived as well?"

Most of them," the wizard replied. "In fact." Here he threw an amused glance at Sam. "The elves are causing a lot of curiosity from the Shirelings."

"Oh dear," Sam sighed. "This is going to be difficult to explain. I suppose we'd better go and talk with Merry and Pippin now." Frodo nodded, and fetched his jacket from the parlour.

Soon he and Sam were walking along the dirt road through the Shire. The eyes of Halfling darted here and there taking in everything possible. Sam led him to a hobbit-hole and around the fence surrounding the hole was a small sign saying "Residence of Took". Frodo started, the sign was identical to the one he had seen in his dream, and he had never seen Pippin's hobbit-hole. Rather shakily, he followed Sam to the door.

"What is it Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked anxiously.

"Oh it's nothing Sam, don't worry about it," Frodo tried to assure his friend. Sam gave him a worried glance, and then knocked upon the door.

"Hold on I'll be right with you," came a heavily accented voice from within. Soon the door opened, and a hobbit with curly straw-coloured hair stood in front of them. He was dressed in a white shirt and brown breeches and of course was taller than the other two hobbits due to the droughts of entwash, and so looked down upon them with a slightly frazzled expression.

"Hello Sam," the hobbit seized Sam's hand, and pumped it energetically. Frodo watched silently. This of course was Peregrin Took, better known as Pippin. Frodo waited quietly for an opportunity to speak.

"Hello Pippin," he said softly. Pippin looked over at him, and his eyes widened.

"Frodo," he squealed excitedly, "what're you doing here?"

"May we come in Pippin?" Sam asked. "This isn't a matter to be discussed outdoors."

"Of course," Pippin laughed, "how rude of me. Merry's here as well, and you can meet Diamond."

"The fact that Merry's here will save us a trip," Frodo replied softly. Pippin shut the door behind them, and again Frodo was unnerved by how similar the hobbit-hole was to how it had appeared in his dream.

"Look who's here Merry," Pippin could barely contain his excitement, as he ushered the two hobbits into the sitting-room. Sitting on the couch in the parlour was another hobbit with curly straw-coloured hair. He was clothed in brown breeches, and a yellow vest, and his blue eyes sparkled happily. Beside him was seated a striking hobbit in a crimson frock. She had long curly dark-brown hair, and dark brown eyes. Her features were proud, but soft simultaneously. Beside her was seated a pleasantly plump hobbit-woman, dressed in a pink frock. Her hair and eyes were of the same colour as her female companion.

"I don't know why you're here Mayor," said Meriadoc Brandybuck with a mischievous smile. "But whatever the reason is, I didn't do it." Sam laughed good-naturedly. Merry looked at Frodo and his laughter ceased immediately. "It can't be." He whispered, and studied Frodo.

"I don't mean to interrupt," said the plump woman on the couch. "But I don't believe that I'm acquainted to this hobbit."

"What a forgetful sought I am," Pippin exclaimed shaking his head, and turned to Frodo. "Frodo this is my wife Diamond of Long Cleeve. Diamond this is Frodo Baggins."

"The Frodo Baggins," Diamond asked as she stood.

"I'm the Ring-bearer if that's what you're asking," replied Frodo with a slight smile on his solemn face.

"Pleasure," Diamond breathed excitedly, and shook his hand energetically. "I'm very pleased to finally meet you. Pippin's told me so much about you." She looked down at his hand. "But you aren't nine-fingered as is said in the stories."

"Eáránë fixed my hand," Frodo explained. "She thought that having all of my fingers would be preferred."

"Who's Eáránë?" asked Merry, and Frodo felt a wave of an emotion that he could not quite identify, but it involved him feeling angry at Merry.

"She's a Lórien elf," he replied shortly.

"Elves," the other hobbit leaned forward in her spot on the couch. "Are they as beautiful as I've been told?"

"Estella let our guests sit," laughed Pippin, and he gestured Sam and Frodo to the couch. The two hobbits sat down.

"Estella Bolger is my wife," Merry placed his arm around her waist. Estella smiled affectionately at him.

"The elves are like the moon," Frodo answered Estella. "They're very mysterious, sad, and fair. They are immortal to sickness, and death of natural causes. But for that, they must walk the paths of this world for all eternity."

"I'd love to see elves," Diamond breathed. "They sound so mystical, and yet foreboding in a way."

"They have powers that I'll never understand," Frodo agreed. "But if you'd like, I can introduce you to Eáránë."

"Oh yes please," Diamond's and Estella's eyes sparkled.

"Pippin," Sam changed the subject rather abruptly, which Frodo did not mind. The price of the elves returning was too high, and so many of Middle-earth's inhabitants were naive to this fact. "What's the deal with your son always coming to my house, and then running off?"

"Don't you know?" asked Pippin. "Faramir has a crush on Goldilocks."

"A crush?" exclaimed Sam. "He's only eight!"

"Yes well, that's not stopping him," Pippin laughed. Frodo watched the conversation unfold, and abruptly felt very detached. His heart ached painfully, and a sense of fury took him. He seethed that they were able to carry on with their normal lives while he suffered day-in, and day out. He knew that it was not their fault. He had chosen to take the Ring. It had been his burden, his curse, his sacrifice. Frodo wanted to weep

"I can't believe that you're back," Merry's voice held confusion. "You left for the Undying Lands. I thought you were never coming back."

"I shouldn't be back," replied Frodo sullenly. "But the fact of the matter is that the Ring of Power wasn't destroyed."

"What?" both Merry and Pippin exclaimed in unison.

"The War for Middle-earth has only begun," Frodo replied.

"I felt that as much of the original Fellowship of the Ring should be gathered together," pitched in Sam.

"But this, this can't be happening," Merry's voice shook with fear. "There are so many responsibilities that I'm entitled to. I'm the Master of Buckland. My responsibility really should be…"

"Your affairs are your own to decide," Frodo said coolly.

"I'm sorry Frodo. I don't have anyone to hold the spot for me…" Merry tried to explain. Frodo's eyes flashed angrily, and Merry flinched away from him and tried pathetically to justify his reasons. "Otherwise I'd go with you. I really would."

"This is the fate of Middle-earth that we're talking about!" Frodo's voice began to rise with anger. "And you're worried about keeping up your stance as Master of Buckland?" Merry shifted uncomfortably. "Besides, couldn't your wife hold the spot for you?"

"Well I uh, I sort of uh," Merry spluttered momentarily and then gave up.

Frodo turned and gazed imploringly at Pippin, "I need to stay with Diamond and Faramir." Pippin's voice shook with fear. Frodo sighed, but did not move.

"Your son is eight years old," his voice was quiet. "I doubt that your wife needs help with an eight year old boy. I thought you said that you would have to be tied up in sacks to be stopped from coming."

"Circumstances change," Pippin tried to explain. "I'd be too afraid of not coming back for my son or wife. That would scar them for life." Diamond put her arms around her husband protectively.

"Mr. Frodo, I'm sure that they have their reasons," Sam stood and put a restraining hand on Frodo's shoulder. "They fought bravely during the last war, isn't that enough?"

"Yes," pitched in Pippin. "We all did our parts in the War for Middle-earth. You carried the Ring of Power, and we fought the armies of Sauron."

"It was my task," Frodo said intensely.

"Mr. Frodo, please," Sam pleaded. "Listen to yourself." Frodo glared at him, and realised to the fullest extent what he had just said, and done. His heart filled with pain as his friends looked at him as though at some beast that they were disgusted to set eyes upon. Unable to bear it, he turned and fled from the room.

Blindly he ran through the hall of the hobbit-hole, threw open the door, and fled to the sanctuary of the outside. The temperature was cool enough that he could see his breath, and he stood rigidly as the mist escaped from his lips. He did not feel the cold. All he could feel was the emptiness in his heart.

"You shouldn't be out here Mr. Frodo," Frodo could hear Sam coming up behind him. "You'll catch your death out here." Frodo quietly accepted his jacket from Sam, and noted painfully that the other was watching him warily as though he expected him to suddenly lash out again.

"I'm sorry Sam," he truly meant his words. "I suppose even after seventeen years, the Ring still has a pretty strong hold on me."

"It's alright Mr. Frodo, I understand," Sam empathised. "But how're you going to survive with your illnesses, and pains?"

"I'll find a way," Frodo replied quietly. "I must." And they headed back to Bag End.


	4. Chapter 3 The Truth of the Matter

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Note: ****Hope you enjoy.**

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**_Chapter 3_**

The Truth of the Matter

Eáránë stood gracefully upon the welcome mat. Her black gown rustled in the slight breeze, and her jet-black hair rippled on her slender shoulders. She gazed intently upon the rising sun. The colours of pink, orange, and red played across her fair skin. She turned her attention to Athelas who had joined her.

"Inyë akâra lá enyalië manen vanya i Anar né," she remarked, "i úvësa lúmë vanwa vesa i lúmë haryanyë cennas tapenya indo."

"Sî ná vanya," Athelas replied softly. Eáránë smiled and turned to regard the landscape. In the distance she could see hundreds of figures approaching.

"I quendi tulin tar!" she exclaimed.

"Inyë selma te," volunteered Athelas. "Elyë lelyanna coivai queni er lorna."

"San inyë selma elyë," replied Eáránë.

"Ve elyë merë," he agreed. Eáránë turned and entered the house. She glided down the hallway, and opened the door to the bedroom. She stood silently regarding the sleeping figure of Frodo. Even in sleep it looked as though something was troubling him. She approached him, and lowered herself onto the bed.

"Wake up Frodo," she said softly. The Halfling stirred, opened his large blue eyes and regarded her. "Good morning." She touched his shoulder gently, and gazed down at him.

"Morning," he replied, sleep evident in his soft voice. He sat up, and stretched and Eáránë noticed that he was fully clothed in his travelling outfit.

"Getting into the habit of sleeping in our clothes already are we?" she asked, a slight smile hinting upon her lips. Frodo shrugged sheepishly and allowed a smile to lighten his solemn features. Eáránë found that she could not take her eyes off of him, she struggled for words of intelligence to come from her mouth, but they would not. Finally she somewhat lamely said. "I will see you at breakfast Frodo." And she turned and left.

Entering the parlour she noted the other elves had packed, and were standing as still as statues in front of the window.

"I quendi tulin tar," she informed them.

"Inyë né quantasa caurë," one admitted an expression of relief crossing her face. Eáránë smiled in response. She had been worried about the safety of the others as well, but she had known, as she had explained to Frodo, that the ships had very capable captains.

Eáránë left her companions to mull about in the parlour. She headed towards the kitchen, and upon entering found all of the hobbits awake, and eating. She turned her attention towards Frodo. He was sitting in a chair a few paces from the table at which the Gamgee's were seated, and he was not eating with the same vigour as them simply because his appetite was not as ravenous. Eáránë watched him eat, taking in his every movement, noticing subtle things like the way his slim shoulders inclined slightly forward, and how his large eyes kept on darting about taking in all the details of the quaint little kitchen. She also noticed pain in his expression, and she knew that he felt isolated.

Silently she glided towards him, "It is hard for you is it not?" She asked gently. Frodo looked up at her, and Eáránë found that she was unable to take her eyes away from the beautiful blue depths of his soul. He nodded in response to her question, and she gently placed her slender hand onto his shoulder.

"I really feel that I don't belong here Eáránë," he replied softly after a brief moment of silence. Eáránë gave his slim shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Athelas entered the room and broke the silence that had descended.

"Altáriel tulin tar," he announced. "Sî yello an ilquen an tulin ans."

"Nyarins ta selmammë tulin ans rato," replied Eáránë. She turned to Frodo and translated what had been said.

"I'll be ready soon," he replied. "I just have to make sure that I have everything." He turned and left the kitchen and trotted quietly down the hall, and into his room. Opening his pack, he retrieved the shirt of _mithril_, and laid it onto the bed. Pulling off his shirt and vest, he pulled the _mithril_ over his head, threw his shirt and vest back overtop, and slung the pack over his shoulder and headed back out into the hallway.

Eáránë was out already waiting for him by the hangers. He placed his pack down, and put on his jacket, and cloak, and fastened the Lórien broach on top. Eáránë helped him put on his pack on. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and his breathing was coming faster into his lungs. He was thankful that she did not notice, and followed her outside.

The temperature was cool, and Frodo could see his breath fogging slightly as it escaped his lips. He could see Galadriel standing by the white tree that had been planted to replace the Party Tree. Saruman's minions had cut down the Party Tree when he took over the Shire. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, had driven Saruman and his forces away, and the Shire had returned to the peaceful place that it had been before the Battle of the Ring.

Frodo had to trot at a fairly fast pace to keep up with Eáránë's pace, and by the time they reached the spot where the elves were gathered, he was panting. There was a dull murmur throughout the crowd of elves. Frodo could not make out anything that was being said, because it was in elvish, which he did not speak a lot of. The Lady raised her hand, and immediately silence descended.

"Elves," she spoke clearly. "You have returned to Middle-earth to embark upon a perilous journey. The Lord Elrond and I have been suspicious of Evil of late, and our fears have been confirmed by the Ring-bearer himself." Here there was slight murmur in anxious elvish tones. "The Time of the Elves is over." Galadriel continued. "However I do not believe that we should leave Middle-earth to its fate. We will fight with the armies of Middle-earth against the armies of Sauron until our last immortal breath is spent. Our task is to set up armies in Rivendell and Lothlórien. That is why those of you with exceptional healing or battling skills have been chosen. The people of Elrond will go with him to Rivendell, and the others will travel with me to Lothlórien." She paused here and regarded some of the elves. "I must press upon you all how serious the situation is. You must all be very careful. Indeed those traveling to Lórien with me know that a spy will accompany you. Idril Felagund from Rivendell has agreed to be our look-out." She paused again. "We will be leaving soon. This is not a time for long good-byes. This is a time to prepare for the journey that awaits us."

Frodo looked around him and could see hobbits poking their heads out of their doors. They looked with wonder upon the hundreds of elves clustered around the tree. Frodo wondered if they had heard Galadriel's speech. His sensitive ears picked up soft footfalls, and he turned to see Sam trotting towards the tree. The elves graciously parted, allowing him through. The elves then dispersed, and allowed the Shire-folk to crowd around Sam.

"Hobbits of the Shire," Sam began. "I'm afraid that I have ill news. As you can well see, there're elves present. Don't go gawking at them, because they're here for an extremely important reason. The threat's not gone the Ring of Power remains in this world. I must go, for I made a promise to my friend and master Frodo Baggins." Here a great murmur rippled throughout the hobbits. Sam continued. "In my place, my beloved wife will lead you until my return. Farewell." He stepped down, and immediately all the hobbits began to talk at once.

"I seem to recall that Halflings are not adventurous creatures," remarked Eáránë.

"Adventures are looked down upon in the Shire," replied Frodo, and then he remembered his promise to Diamond and Estella. "There's someone who wants to meet you if that's alright." Eáránë inclined her head and followed Frodo through the throng of hobbits until they found Diamond, Merry, and Pippin.

"Hello," Frodo approached them. The three hobbits looked at him warily, and Frodo felt as though he had been physically struck in the face. "You'd said that you wanted to meet Eáránë."

"Oh," breathed Diamond, "is this Eáránë? She's even more beautiful than I thought she would be. I have never seen such dark beauty before!" Estella's mouth simply hung open, and she found nothing to say.

"Well I thank you Diamond of Long Cleeve," Eáránë looked down upon the hobbit. She regarded Merry and Pippin intently for a few moments. "They have good reason Frodo." She said softly. Frodo knew what she was talking about, and his heart sank. "However, you had every right to be angry with them." She paused here. "I will leave you now." She said and she left Frodo standing awkwardly in front of Merry, and Pippin. He turned and could see Sam saying good-bye to his family. As he watched, his heart ached painfully. He felt so empty, a shadow, a wraith.

"I'm sorry about my actions yesterday," he said finally. "I don't know what came over me."

"It's alright Frodo," assured Pippin. "You had every right to be angry with us. This is after all the fate of Middle-earth that's at stake."

"The truth is Frodo," interrupted Merry. "We feel we'd just get in the way. There's really no use in us going, we'd serve no purpose."

"Extra baggage if you get our meaning," continued Pippin. Frodo nodded, regarded the two hobbits in front of him. They had served their purpose. There was no need for them to come with him.

"It's alright," he finally said. "Stay behind and look after the Shire." The two nodded, and took their leave. Frodo looked around and spotted Eáránë, and he made his way over to her. She smiled down at him, and then looked up at the approaching figure of Aerandir.

"Ya lúmë nar anammë vannë?" Athelas asked Eáránë.

"Ya oilúmë Altáriel heren not," Eáránë answered his question to the best of her knowledge. Athelas nodded and turned away. Frodo looked up at Eáránë for an explanation. The elf summarized what Athelas had said.

"It is time to leave," called the clear voice of Galadriel.

"Come Frodo," Eáránë placed her hands gently onto his shoulders and turned him away from Bag End. Frodo wished he could stay with all his heart, but knew he could not. He was bound to the fate of the Ring, for if he did not find a way, no one would.

"Well Mr. Frodo," Sam trotted up beside him. "I have to say that it's great to see you again..."

"The cost of my return is too high Sam," Frodo cut his friend off, and Sam kept his eyes on the ground.

"The details of the journey follow as thus," Galadriel's voice carried clearly to the thousands of elvish ears, and Athelas came and stood by Eáránë. "The Lord Elrond and his people will depart for The Land of Rivendell. We will go down Breenway and take the Old South Road to the Gap of Rohan. From there we will travel through Minas Tirith and speak with the king of the goings on and then journey up the Anduin River to Mirkwood to speak with the elves there, and from there to my realm, the woods of Lothlorien. This is our road."

"Selmammë vannë," called Elrond.

Eáránë embraced her companions and Frodo could hear each of the elves saying, "Namárië." He did not wish to interrupt so he stood in the shadow of their friendship and said nothing. Frodo watched Eáránë as she looked out at the disappearing figures of her friends. He noticed that her slender shoulders were quivering slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"I worry," she answered. "I worry for them." She turned her eyes down onto him. "And I worry for you Ring-bearer." She placed her slender hand on Frodo's cheek, and he could feel his face become hot.

"You don't need to worry," he tried to assure her. "I'll be alright."

"Your strength is amazing Frodo Baggins," she smiled. "However the task still sets itself against you."

The throng of elves began to move. The pace was quick, and Frodo and Sam had to trot fairly fast to keep pace with the long elvish strides of those around them. Frodo heard heavy footfalls and turned to see Gandalf making his way towards them. As they strode along, Eáránë began to sing a haunting elvish tune that sent shivers down Frodo's spine.

"_Atanna Endórë __tulu__mmë, _

_Ananta istammë i lúmësa i quendi n__á __vanwa._

_Ai manen úmando i Ambar n__á ana __tulin,_

_I palusa i__ Huinë __n__á __eressë yessë._

_Ve an i quendi, selma mahtammë,_

_Úan i ilfirin hwesta__alya me__nna ná vanwa__._

_An colmmë i cálë,_

_Ta ana me__i hossësa Úmëa vá verya ana tultaná._

_Ai manen inyë nyényë,_

_Mi nírësa sercë ta tië undunya helmasa qualmë._

_Ar inyë vá fume,_

_Lala va er haryanyë ilfirin hwesta._"

The sadness of her tone made Frodo feel even more desolate. Despite the fact that he was surrounded by the presence of thousands of others, he felt so alone. He thought about the shadow that he had become. He was grateful that she had finished her ballad and he brooded in silence.

"Breenway," Frodo's thoughts were interrupted by Sam. "I can't say I'm familiar with it."

"Well you are not the only one," replied Athelas, and his eyes darted around taking in absolutely everything then he turned to Frodo. "What exactly is the Shadow in the East?"

Eáránë sighed, "I can answer that Athelas." She replied. "The Shadow was a wizard once, a wizard of terrible power, a wizard who desired to dominate all of Middle-earth, and His name was Sauron. Over the years His corrupt power grew, and He became even more powerful. He developed what are known as the Dark Forces, and using this great Evil, He took the most beautiful creatures on Middle-earth, the elves, and tortured them, mutilated them, so they became a ruined, and terrible form of life. These creatures were called Orcs. Soon these orcs became Sauron's armies, and He sent them to terrorize the lands around Mordor, where He was situated. Soon it was known as The Land of Evil, and few dared even to go near it.

"It was about this time, when The Great Rings were forged. No one knew by whom or why they had been forged, but they possessed the power to control each race on Middle-earth. Three were bestowed upon the elves, seven to the Dwarf Lords, and nine to the Great Kings of Men. Sauron knew that these Rings were the key to the total domination of Middle-earth, but to do this, He needed a Master Ring, one to bind all others to His power. By using His immense Evil, Sauron forged this Ring in the fires of Mount Doom. Into this Ring Sauron poured His cruelty, His malice, and His will to dominate all life, One Ring to rule them all.

"With the Ring of Power, Sauron became all but invincible. The Rings that He had bestowed upon the nine Kings of Men corrupted them, and one by one, swallowed them into the Shadow World. Soon they became slaves to His will. Ever feeling the presence of The One Ring, they became known as the Nazgûl, Ring-wraiths. Together with the armies of orcs, and the power of Sauron himself, The Land of Mordor totalled a power that none wished to face. And yet there were a few who did not wish for Sauron to enslave Middle-earth without a fight. Elvish armies and armies of men formed an alliance and fought the Evil of Mordor. Sauron himself came and faced the almost victorious alliance, and proved that the Power of the Ring was unstoppable. Defeating the majority of the armies of men single-handedly, Sauron was unbeatable.

"The alliance knew however that the freedom of Middle-earth hung in the balance of this battle. If Sauron was not defeated, it would spell certain doom for the quieter places of the World. The King of the men ran forward, and Sauron defeated him as easily as He had the others. Isildur, son of the King ran forward, disregarding the fact that Sauron, the Evil was right behind him. Grabbing his father's sword, Isildur swung at the outstretched hand of the Evil One. With this simple movement, Sauron was destroyed, for Isildur had severed the finger with the Ring upon it.

"Unfortunately the Ring of Power has a will of its own. Corrupting all who would bear it and Isildur bent under its will. The Ring of Power lived on, betraying Isildur to his death, and was from that moment lost. For two and a half thousand years it slept upon the shores of the Anduin River, all the while waiting, waiting to return to its Master.

"During this time, the power of the Shadow grew in the East, for Sauron's life-force was bound to the Ring, and the Ring had survived. Sauron did not have the power yet to take a physical form, and so remained in His Fortress of Barad-dûr. His strength constantly growing, He was able to see all. His gaze pierced cloud, shadow, earth, and flesh. Yet He still was not much of a threat because He lacked on thing. He lacked The Ruling Ring.

"By unhappy chance, the Ring came into the possession of another bearer. The creature Gollum claimed it as his own, and in Gollum's keep, the Ring waited another five hundred years for the time to return to the hand of its master. Finally it abandoned Gollum, but was picked up by the most unlikely bearer possible. Burglar Bilbo Baggins under the employment of Thorin and company, and from Bilbo it passed to Frodo who took it upon himself to destroy it. However he was not successful, and as long as the Ring remains in this world the power of the Shadow will grow."

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Athelas said nothing, and it seemed that even the weather had been listening to Eáránë, for the clouds covered the sun, and the breeze turned into a howling wind. Frodo was glad that he had his hood up, but even still the cold wind stung at his face. He wrapped his cloak around him, and continued to walk on.

Soon enough the hobbit became weary. His feet felt like lead, and the impure air tore through his lungs. Thunder and lightning ripped across the sky, and ice-cold rain began to pour down upon the elves. Frodo looked out into the bleak dismal night. Cold water dripped onto his face and down his back until he was soaked right through.

"A nice pickle we've landed ourselves into Mr. Frodo," grumbled Sam. "It seems as though weather was listening."

"Perhaps it was," replied Eáránë. Frodo panted as he trotted along to keep pace with the long elvish strides of those around him. Thunder boomed ominously, and Frodo saw Athelas jump. He realized that the elf had never encountered weather of this nature before.

"Are you alright Athelas?" he shouted over the now howling wind. Athelas was too petrified to even speak, but he managed a frightened nod.

"I can only hope Mr. Frodo," shouted Sam. "That this isn't what the weather's going to be like every day."

"Middle-earth works in mysterious ways," replied Gandalf. "There is often never a reasonable explanation for its actions, but they are still present."

"It's not the will of some other Evil is it?" shouted Sam nervously. Gandalf gazed intensely down at the hobbit.

"If I knew that Samwise Gamgee," he replied loudly. "Do you not think I would have said something?" Sam said something inaudible over the screaming of the wind and kept his eyes on the ground. The rain had become a solid mass of grey, and Frodo could barely see the thousands of other figures around him. Again the feeling of isolation descended upon him, and he walked along alone, wet, and freezing.

Frodo struggled to keep pace with the rest of the group. He envied the elves and Gandalf too. He panted as he trotted along behind trying to keep pace with their long strides. On, and on they walked seeming to completely forgetting the presence of the hobbit as they strode along tirelessly. Frodo became weary, but they did not stop. Always moving, always walking. Now that he was weary, the mud seemed to jump out at Frodo, who was walking as fast as his little legs would carry him. Despite this effort, he was still a good deal behind, when he lost his balance. The cold hard ground scraped at his hands, the icy mud splashed up onto his face, and the frigid rain stung the rest of his skin. He attempted to rise, but he slipped again, and stayed down and looked around him. He was completely alone. The silence lay thickly around him. There was no sound except for the pounding of the rain, and the sound of his breathing. The hobbit dared not call for help, for he feared something evil would find him, so he lay silent in the rain. He wrapped his cloak tightly around him to try, and warm himself. The cold descended brutally upon him, and Frodo shivered, curled up, and huddled in the mud. His sensitive ears caught slight movement, and he looked up to see an elvish hand being extended towards him, and the hobbit gratefully, and allowed the other to help him to his feet.

"Come," it was Athelas. Frodo trotted quickly but he could not keep pace with the elf, and he stumbled. Athelas caught the Halfling before he could reach the ground, and lifted him up in his arms. Once Frodo was secured in his arms, the elf set off at a very quick pace. Frodo stared out into the rain, and he could see the other elves off to Athelas' right.

"There they are," he called and he pointed towards them. Athelas followed Frodo's direction, and soon he caught up with Eáránë. She looked very fearful.

"Frodo," she cried with relief upon seeing him safely in Athelas' arms. "Thank goodness you are alright."

"Thank-you Athelas," Frodo shouted. "You can put me down now." The elf obeyed and placed Frodo down to walk with Sam.

"You gave me a scare Mr. Frodo," Sam exclaimed. "I thought I'd lost you."

"It'll take more than a little rain to lose me Sam," Frodo replied with a smile.

Galadriel spoke, "We must keep a closer watch on the Halflings. We seem to have forgotten their presence. Those of us who can move faster must help those who cannot. Precautions must be taken for the amount of time we have is not a lot." At this, Athelas picked up Frodo again, and another elf picked up Sam, and they continued to walk through the night. Frodo felt his eyes become heavy. He fought to stay awake, but finally passed into a restless sleep.

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Frodo awoke to the sound of elvish voices. He sat up and disentangled his cloak from around him. Sam was snoring contentedly beside him, and Frodo gingerly got to his feet in attempt to not wake him up. Approaching the elves, Frodo noted that Galadriel and Eáránë were speaking with another elf. He reasoned that she had to be giving them a report on the awaiting road. After a few moments of hushed elvish speech, the elf turned and made her way off.

"Is the road safe?" Frodo inquired.

"It is unoccupied," replied Eáránë. "There are camps of the enemy in the distance but they are more than likely from before the War of The Ring. We will be informed if there is danger."

"The Road is never safe," added Galadriel. "The Shadow remains, as does His threat. There is no one place left in Middle-earth that is safe."

"Except for the Shire," Frodo replied quietly, and Galadriel smiled sadly.

"That can be changed Ring-bearer," she said. "You remember what it was that you saw in my mirror." Frodo shuddered, knowing that she spoke of what would happen if he should fail in his task.

"My Lady," he spoke up. "If The Ring wasn't destroyed, then why haven't we met more resistance from the enemy?"

"That I do not know Frodo," the elf replied. "However I suspect that The Ring may have been in the Fire of Doom long enough to destroy His armies. I also suspect that we will meet resistance from the enemy in due time, for He has had a substantial amount of time to rebuild His armies."

"It's unnerving," Frodo admitted. "I feel as though it's too quiet, as though we're walking into a trap."

"Our lookout is faithful," Eáránë assured him. "As long as she has breath left, she will warn us if there is danger ahead."

"It still doesn't feel right," Frodo replied softly, and he went and gently shook Sam who simply rolled over and went back to sleep. Frodo smiled, and then shook his friend again. Sam opened his eyes and looked at Frodo blearily.

"Why'd you have to wake me up just then Mr. Frodo?" he grumbled. "I was in the middle of a feast."

Frodo laughed, "Sorry Sam." Sam yawned widely, and sleepily got to his feet. The throng of elves began to move forward at the impossible pace. Frodo trotted along silently, and listened to the silence. The rain had passed, and the sun was shining down upon them as they travelled.

As they walked, the clouds covered the sun, and the temperature began to drop. Frodo could feel a coldness spreading through his small body that was not external. This icy feeling seemed to be migrating from his left shoulder where the old Nazgûl wound was located. In fact the frigid feeling was coming from the wound itself. Subconsciously he rubbed the spot trying to warm it, though he was puzzled by the fact that it was not the right time for this to be happening. The wound would hurt but only on the anniversary of his being stabbed on Weathertop, and that was not for a while. Abruptly Frodo felt the blade of Morgul stab into the flesh of his shoulder. He stumbled and fell to the ground clutching his shoulder. Eáránë was by his side instantly.

"What is it Frodo?" she asked.

"My shoulder," he gasped, as another stab of icy cold ripped through his flesh. Eáránë worked quickly undoing his cloak, jacket, vest and suspenders.

"I have to move your arms Frodo," she said, and as gently as she could, she lifted the Halfling's arms over his head. Frodo winced in pain despite her efforts as the pain shot through his arm and chest. The elf pulled the shirt of _mithril_ over his head and regarded the wound.

"It doesn't hurt this much unless I'm around the Nazgûl," Frodo managed to say.

"We would know if the Nazgûl were here," she assured him. Gently she placed her hand on the wound, and closed her eyes.

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At first all she could see was darkness, but gradually shapes formed, and Eáránë realized that she was looking upon The Land of Unspeakable Evil, The Land of Shadow, Mordor. Her eyes widened with horror as she saw that what she had thought to be ground was in fact orcs. Thousands of these creatures moved past her as she passed through the lands of the enemy and through the walls of Barad-dûr. Inside she could see more orcs as she ascended the stairs of the tower. Inside the top of the tower she saw the Nine in their cruel armour, hooded, and cloaked on their black steeds, waiting, waiting in front of a tenth wraith. Eáránë realized with horror that this wraith was the Evil One himself.

"Now my minions," He spoke in the blackest of tones. "I have summoned you from the depths of the Shadow-world. No being can destroy you this time, for now you are invincible. You will not rest my slaves until you have found the Ring. You will not stop until the source of my power has been returned to me. Kill all who stand in your way, but bring me the Ring-bearer alive." With this being said the Nine turned their steeds around sharply and thundered out of the room.

"So it has begun," Sauron clenched His armoured fist, "the Beginning of the End. Time is running out for the free peoples of Middle-earth. Soon the Ring will be on my hand once more, and my power will be renewed. I will cover the lands in darkness, and shadow, and all will be mine." He laughed horribly, and Eáránë shivered. She found that she could not move no matter how hard she tried. She was frozen with fear, and to her dismay, Sauron turned towards her. The blackness beneath the hood of His cloak regarded her, and the elf could feel the warmth draining from her body. His armour glinted cruelly in the dim light, and she could see that every joint of His chain mail ended with long sharp protrusions.

He began to approach her, the sound of His footsteps echoing horribly. He reached out one of His cruel armoured hands towards her, and as He did so, uttered the most horrible high-pitched shriek that she had ever heard. This shriek slowly melted into Frodo's cry of pain, and Eáránë's eyes flew open, and she looked down upon the Halfling.

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Frodo's chest was heaving slightly, and he was panting as the elf regarded him. She spread what warmth she still had into his shoulder to ease the pain that she knew he was feeling. She took her hand away, and was alarmed to feel that it was completely numb with cold.

"Thank-you," Frodo said.

"I did very little," replied Eáránë. "But you are welcome." Frodo sat up and pulled the shirt of _mithril _over his head. The elf stood and left him to throw on his shirt and such that she had removed, and made her way over to Gandalf and Galadriel.

"What did you see?" Gandalf asked urgently.

"The Nazgûl have been reborn," she replied softly. "Their power has been increased so that no being can destroy them. They are on horses, not Winged Beasts, so they cannot travel as fast which is to our advantage." She paused and shuddered slightly. "I also saw Him. He is able to take the physical form of a wraith now. His power is growing but He still does not know where the Ring is or in whose possession it lies."

"He is blind as we are," Galadriel mused. "You are shaken Eáránë, you have seen more than you have told us."

"Sauron saw me my Lady," the elf replied shivering slightly. "He turned and came towards me."

"What did He ask you?" Galadriel asked intensely.

"Nothing My Lady," Eáránë replied. "He only came toward me, and noise like death."

"The Cry of the Shadow," replied Galadriel. "He was calling for you."

"If Frodo had not cried in pain," Eáránë's voice shook with fear. "He would have reached me, but what would He have done to me?"

"He would have destroyed you," Galadriel replied. "You were in His realm, and He saw you."

"How?" she did not really want to know, but the elf thought she should ask.

"Darkness has its ways," Galadriel answered. "Just as the elves have their ways. Did He speak of His plans?"

"Yes but they have not been changed much," Eáránë answered. "He said that time is running out, so He is obviously planning an assault soon."

"What of the Ring-bearer?" Gandalf inquired. "What are His plans for the Ring-bearer?"

"Sauron wishes them to bring whoever possesses the Ring to Him alive," the elf replied. "If Frodo bears the Ring again, he will be in more danger than he knows." She Galadriel and Gandalf turned and regarded the hobbit as he got to his feet.

"I'm alright now," he said with a small smile. "We can keep going."

"Are you sure Ring-bearer?" asked Galadriel. "We can take a moment to rest."

"I'm sure," replied the hobbit, and so they set pace again.

"You alright Mr. Frodo?" asked Sam compassionately.

"Yes thanks to Eáránë," Frodo looked up at the elf gratefully.

Eáránë smiled down at him, "As I said Frodo Baggins, I did very little."

"But you still helped me," he insisted, and Eáránë laughed softly. "Did you figure out what caused it?" He asked. Eáránë said nothing, and avoided looking at him. "What did you see?" He inquired urgently.

"Nothing that concerns you for now Frodo," Eáránë forced herself to smile reassuringly down at him. She hated to lie to him, but the task that she knew he would have to carry out was already at impossible odds against him. She had not the heart to tell him what she had seen, at least not until the Ring had been found.

Frodo knew that Eáránë was not being entirely truthful, but he knew that it was impossible for him to get her to tell him everything if she did not want to. That was the problem with elves. They worked in mysterious ways.

As he walked Frodo decided to lighten the mood that had transpired down upon him. Clearing his throat he began to sing his voice lifting clearly throughout the many elves.

"_The Road goes ever on and on_

_Down from the door where it began._"

Eáránë joined him. Her soft soprano adding a beautiful and sad dimension to Bilbo's old traveling song.

"_Now far ahead the Road has gone,_

_And I must follow, if I can,_

_Pursuing it with eager feet,_

_Until it joins some larger way_

_Where many paths and errands meet._

_And whither then? I cannot say._"

They ended together and Frodo looked up at the elf, "I didn't know that you knew that song."

"Yes I know the song," she replied and smiled slightly. "You have a nice voice Frodo of the Shire."

"Thanks. So do you," Frodo laughed, his solemn face lighting up. Eáránë had never heard the Halfling laugh before, and the smile which was now upon his face made her smile back at him. Frodo's smile faded, and his usual solemn expression returned.

Eáránë looked down upon the now silent Halfling, and felt a twinge of pain pass through her soul. Frodo was to bear the Ring of Power, and try and complete the task that had already defeated him once. She wondered how he was going to survive the call of Evil when all hope had faded into darkness. He was going to be in more danger than he would even realize. She pushed these dark thoughts out of her minds-eye. She knew that despite the impossible odds that had been set against him, somehow Frodo would still find a way.

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**Translations in order of appearance**

**I did not recall how beautiful the sun was**

**The abundance of time past as of the time I possess to see her, blocks my mind**

**She is beautiful**

**The elves come thither**

**I will meet them**

**You go awaken the ones still asleep**

**Then I will join you**

**As you wish**

**The elves come thither**

**I was full of fear**

**Galadriel come thither**

**She calls for everybody to come to her**

**Tell her that we will come to her soon**

**Which time are we to depart**

**Which ever time Galadriel reckons**

**We****will****depart**

**Farewell**

**Back to Middle-earth we come**

**And yet we know that the time of the elves is done**

**Alas how unsafe the World is to come**

**The spread of the Shadow is only begun**

**As for the elves, we will fight**

**Until the immortal breath blessed upon us is spent**

**For we bear the light**

**That towards us the armies of Evil will not dare to be sent**

**Alas how I weep**

**In tears of blood that course down my skin of death**

**And I will not sleep**

No indeed not as I still possess immortal breath


	5. Chapter 4 The Prospect of Loss

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

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_**Chapter 4**_

The Prospect of Loss

The silence surrounding the elves was unnervingly thick. Frodo looked around at the grim faces of those travelling with him. It was so quiet that every time he heard even the slightest rustle of fabric, the hobbit would jump. Frodo felt that he was a bundle of nerves, but he did not understand why he was so nervous.

"You're sure jumpy Mr. Frodo," Sam whispered.

"I know Sam," Frodo hissed back at his companion impatiently. "I'm just nervous that's all."

"Why," asked Sam, and he lowered his voice to match that of his companion.

"Oh I don't know Sam," answered the hobbit keeping his voice as low as was possible. "I keep expecting something to jump out at us."

"Ah," was the simple response that Sam gave, and to which Frodo quickly shushed him. "Why?" He hissed.

"I already told you Sam," Frodo whispered nervously.

"No I meant why are we whispering?" Sam questioned quietly. Frodo could not find an answer and so he simply shrugged in response. Sam muttered something inaudible.

"Did you say something Sam?" asked Frodo his soft voice almost silent.

"I said 'A nice pickle you've landed yourself into Samwise Gamgee'," Sam replied, and to which all of the elves turned and in unison shushed him.

They walked along in silence for a while. Frodo glanced at his friend, and was distressed to see that Sam appeared to be angry. His heart twisted at the prospect that he had hurt Sam in some way.

"I'm glad to be with you Samwise Gamgee," he whispered and Sam's face lit up into a smile. Frodo put his arm around Sam's shoulders and they continued to walk.

"It's so quiet," Sam remarked softly, and Frodo nodded in response, "too quiet. No sound at all, none. No birds, no rustling of leaves, nothing. It's unnatural."

"Whatever it is Sam," Frodo whispered. "It's unnerving. I can only hope that there are no wild animals in the forest."

"Wild beasts," Sam squeaked in fright. At once he found every archer pointing an arrow at him.

"If there are wild beasts in this field," Gandalf hissed. "You will be the first one that we feed to them Samwise Gamgee. Confound you for your big mouth."

"I'm sorry Mr. Gandalf sir," squeaked Sam.

"Then keep your big mouth shut," suggested the wizard. "Or I may have to remove your tongue." The colour drained from Sam's face and he nodded mutely.

"It's alright Sam," Frodo kept his voice low. "Everybody's nervous. You just startled them."

"You weren't the one that they were threatening though were you Mr. Frodo," Sam hissed.

"No Sam, I wasn't," Frodo admitted softly.

"Well it's no fun, let me tell you," he replied pointedly. Frodo laughed quietly until a begrudging Sam broke down and joined him.

"Come on Sam," Frodo encouraged his companion, and they trotted together surrounded by the many elves.

"How're they all supposed to defend themselves if we're attacked?" Sam asked in the lowest tone possible.

"I don't know," admitted Frodo quietly. "Hopefully they do though." Sam snorted at this, to which again the elves rounded upon him and shushed him.

'Sorry,' Sam mouthed, and the elves shook their heads and continued on. Sam shot Frodo a withering glance to which The Ring-bearer grinned, and they trotted quickly to catch up.

The throng continued at the same impossible pace, and soon Frodo found that he was panting. He could feel the perspiration causing his clothing to stick to his small body. He wished that they could stop for a moment and rest, but they needed time, and that was a factor that was already against them. The hobbit could see a river ahead of them.

"Let us stop for a moment," suggested Eáránë. "The Halflings are tired." There was a general agreement from the elves, and happily Frodo collapsed onto the soft grass. He lay there for a few moments, and then stood and made his way over to the river. Sitting on the bank, he dangled his feet in the water. The caress of the stream was pleasantly cool, and the hobbit felt his cares leave him for a time. Closing his eyes, he basked in the calm that he felt.

Opening his large eyes, he perceived Eáránë coming towards him. Gracefully she lowered herself to sit beside him on the bank, removed her black sandals, and placed her shapely feet into the stream. Frodo picked up one of the elf's sandals and examined it curiously. The heel was quite tall which meant that Eáránë was slighter in stature than he had thought. There were straps that the hobbit presumed would go over the feet, and straps that would go around her ankles. At the front joining the different sets of straps was a thick piece of black fabric embroidered with little black beads. The Halfling placed the shoe down, and his large eyes widened as Eáránë pulled the hem of her dress up over her knees exposing her slender legs. Quickly Frodo turned away from the elf, his cheeks burning with an emotion that he did not quite understand. His heart began to pound in his chest as the elf's slender hand found his and entwined her fingers with his.

The hobbit turned to look at the elf, and felt a calmness sweep through him. Eáránë smiled at him, and turned to look at the scenery. Frodo watched her for a while and then turned and followed her gaze. The sky was grey, and darkness was overshadowing all that was around them, and yet in his heart, Frodo felt that the surroundings were ideal. Looking at the stream he could see Sam wading fully clothed, in the shallower part of the stream. His breaches were soaked, but he did not seem to mind. Frodo smiled, and closed his eyes, simply basking in the moment. He wished that it did not have to end, and for one of the first times since he had first carried The Ring, he felt completely at peace.

Reluctantly Frodo forced himself back to reality. Eáránë was watching him quietly, and upon seeing his large blue eyes open, she stood, her dress covering the pale skin of her legs and slid her feet into her black slippers, and together they made their way over to the throng.

The elf gave the hobbit's hand a squeeze, and Frodo knew that he had to let her go. He did not want to let go, but he forced his hand to release its grasp, but he held onto her as long as he could before her fingertips passed from his. He gazed at her retreating figure for a few moments before looking away and expelling a sigh. Sam joined him, and Frodo managed to smile at his companion.

"Well you got your wish Sam," he remarked.

"Yes Mr. Frodo," replied Sam happily. "It seems I did."

The throng strode on, passing over the river where the banks were closer together. The elves and Gandalf crossed with elegant leaps, but Frodo and Sam could not even fathom crossing such a space. Athelas kindly picked up Sam and lifted him across to the outstretched arms of another elf. He repeated this with Frodo, and then leapt lightly across.

They set forth across the field towards another stretch of trees that lay before them. Frodo gazed at the ever-wandering fields and trees when he abruptly heard a faint female elven voice call out "Urqui!" and his heart stopped beating. He did not need a translation to know what that meant. Between the spaces of the elves he could see the scout racing towards them. Her skirts were whipping around her legs and her cloak was flying behind her.

"Urqui!" she screamed. Frodo drew Sting from its sheath. The blade was glowing blue.

"Get down," Galadriel instructed, and gestured to the grass. This was easier said then done. There was a kafuffle as the throng dove for cover in the long grass.

The hobbit could hear the loud breathing, and stomping of the orcs. The elven women were not going to be hidden in time. He had enough time to press his stomach against the ground before the orcs came thundering past. They were met with a volley of arrows, but those behind just took the places of those who fell.

The orcs snorted and started in. Frodo was soon found himself fending the orcs off. He knew that he was hopelessly outnumbered, but he was not going down without a fight. The orcs were surprised and no longer amused at the skills that the Halfling possessed.

"Wretched creature!" exclaimed the orc, and he raised his sword up above his head. In less than a blink of an eye, the orc found he had an arrow buried in his arm, and he cried out in fury. Frodo whirled around to see Athelas standing a few paces behind him, his bow quivering.

"It seems that my aim is a little off," the elf mused. It was meant as a threat, and the orc took it as such and snarled at the elf. The creature stopped mid-snarl when the remaining archers joined Athelas making a large circle around the mound of grass where the elven women were concealed.

"Get back Frodo, get back," Athelas instructed. The hobbit began to make his way back to the others as fast as he could. The orcs snorted with laughter and advanced on him.

Athelas fumbled with his bow, and prepared to shoot, but was stopped by one of the other archers, "Uin maccuilë." He commanded. Athelas obeyed reluctantly, the colour draining from his face.

"Come on Frodo," he encouraged, but the hobbit was not going to let Aerandir get killed by the orcs, so he continued to drag the elf until the orcs were almost upon him. Carefully he set the elf down and drew out the phial of Galadriel. He did not know if what he was about to do was going to be effective, but he decided that is was worth a try.

"Coivasilmëálësa Eärendil," he shouted, and an unearthly white glow lit up the phial. The orcs held their hands to their eyes blinded giving the hobbit just enough time to get into the circle of elves. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and the archers glared at the orcs with grim determination.

Bows were raised, arrows readied, and swords drawn, there was a terrible moment that seemed to last an eternity as each side stood and waited. During this time, two cloaked figures from opposite sides of the circle joined in the centre.

"Luvulya pilindi," instructed the voice of Galadriel. Frodo was shocked to see that all of the archers lowered their bows, but he was even more horrified to see that standing beside Galadriel was Eáránë. Galadriel asked the elf something that Frodo did not follow, but he saw that Eáránë nodded.

Clasping hands the two elven women said in unison, "Álësa i Quendi varyame!" There was a brilliant flash of white light, and when the world came back into focus, the orcs were gone.

Athelas sighed in relief, "I am glad that that is over!" One of the archers regarded him with contempt.

"Over," he questioned coolly. "That was too easy."

"Easy," repeated Athelas numbly. The archer nodded, and left the elf to ponder what had just transpired. The elf did not care to dwell upon what the archer had said, and so he strode over the Frodo. "What took you so long?" He asked angrily. The hobbit looked up at him.

"You forget that I am much smaller than you are," the Halfling reminded the elf.

"We cannot linger here," said an elf impatiently. "Those orcs could be back any minute! We have to move on."

Frodo strode quietly next to the Sam. Gandalf dropped back to walk with the two hobbits. His presence was soothing, and Frodo felt more at ease. Quietly he dropped back to walk with Eáránë, leaving Sam and the White Wizard to stride along together.

"What of the orcs," Athelas joined them, and there was concern evident on his fair face as he asked the question that had been bothering him for some time. "One of the archers said that the victory was too easily achieved."

"There are many plausible reasons," replied Eáránë. "Too many to be able to see which the right answer is, and which are not, but I suspect in my heart that they were ordered to retreat, though for which reason, I cannot say. I can only suppose that He is gathering all Evil to the land of Evil for the time when the War for Middle-earth will be upon us."

"Luckily for us we still have time," put in Gandalf as he joined them as well, Sam was still trotting alongside the wizard anxiously, "time enough to counteract the will of the Shadow. He will not act unless He has to. He will not set out his armies unless He feels threatened. His power is great, but not enough to rule this Middle-earth, and until that time, He will continue to build His armies."

"Until He has the Ring," Frodo put in. The elves looked at him, and nodded solemnly. Though the Ring was not in his possession, Frodo felt a heavy weight upon his heart. A great Doom was before him, and he shivered in the cold of Doom's embrace. The time passed slowly, and Frodo felt hunger pass through his slim frame. The throng had stopped.

Frodo sat down on a stone, pulled off his pack, rummaged through it, and pulled out a few juicy red apples. One he gave to Sam, who received it heartily, and he offered one in turn to Gandalf, and Athelas who turned them down politely. Quietly the hobbit approached Eáránë.

"Would you like an apple Eáránë?" he asked softly extending the ripe red fruit towards her. Graciously she accepted it, and Frodo felt his cheeks become hot as her fingers touched his palm.

Taking a bite from the fruit, the hobbit watched Eáránë quietly out of the corner of his eye. The elf took a bite from the juicy red flesh with a pleasant crunching noise. Frodo found that Eáránë looked beautiful even when she was chewing. Tearing his eyes from her, the hobbit turned his attention to his apple and continued to nibble on it as they walked.

Soon enough the darkness descended upon the travelers and fatigue started in. Frodo glanced at Sam who appeared to be asleep on his feet. Gently he elbowed Sam in the ribs to keep him awake.

"Does it ever end," complained Sam yawning widely.

"No," Frodo replied sadly. "It doesn't" He was weary as well, but not to the same extent as his companion. Athelas took pity on the hobbit, picked him up, and Frodo trotted alongside saying nothing.

They walked as shadows through the night. Everything was still unearthly quiet. Frodo strained his sensitive eyes and ears in vain to try and pick out any sign of movement. The sky lightened as they continued on through the endless field stating that morning had replaced the night.

Now Frodo began to feel a weariness beginning to take a hold of him. He tried to ignore it, but his feet felt like lead. At the same time, a cold feeling descended through him, and he pulled his cloak nearer to his slim frame trying to warm his chilled body. He continued on in this fashion, and his body began to ache. The hobbit had to clench his teeth together to prevent them from chattering.

"What is wrong Frodo?" asked Athelas anxiously.

"I've just got a slight chill that's all," Frodo tried to assure the elf. He repressed a shiver, and tried to act as though he was feeling fine. Frodo grimaced, and repressed another shiver. He lamented on how he had narrowly escaped death several times, and each time it had been a harrowing experience. He remembered one time especially vividly, the feeling of absolute helplessness as he looked into the Shadow-world and perceived death before him. He hoped that the elf was not in too much pain, death sometimes came upon swift wings, and sometimes it claimed its victims slowly. Consuming them until nothing was left but a lifeless corpse. Death sometimes came to pass at inopportune moments, and sometimes it was welcomed like a long sleep after a long life.

A shiver ran down the hobbit's slim form, and brought him back to reality. He had been walking in a haze, but the world around him was no better. It felt as though the ground was slightly inclined, and the hobbit fought to maintain his balance, but the incline kept on changing directions, so that one moment it was inclined to his left, and then the next it was inclined to his right, then to his back, and then to his front.

The Halfling stumbled along hoping that no one was noticing his actions. Luckily the throng seemed to not be paying any attention to him whatsoever, and he struggled to keep the impossible pace that they had set.

When the throng finally ceased their walking, Frodo gratefully collapsed onto the ground and lay there breathing heavily. He still tried his hardest not to shiver, keeping his pain internalized. Athelas stood breathlessly beside him.

"I am glad it is time for a break," he admitted, and Frodo nodded weakly in response. He could feel the strength in his body leaving him. Everything spun momentarily as the hobbit opened his eyes. Squinting, Frodo tried to set his sight back to its normal state, but to no avail. Everything around him was beginning to sway slightly before his eyes. The inversing incline was becoming more and more distinct, and try as he might, Frodo found it very difficult to maintain his balance. Stationary objects would abruptly jump out at him, and his inner temperature began to fluctuate between unbearably cold, to unbearably hot so that in one minute Frodo found that he was shivering, and the next he was perspiring heavily.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain he as feeling. Upon opening them, Frodo found that he was looking upon The Dark Fortress of Barad-dûr, the lair of The Evil One, the domain of The Shadow, The Dark Tower of Sauron. His vision scanned up the tower at a sickening speed, and at the top stood a wraith clad in cruel glinting armour, every joint ending with sharp protrusions. He was standing with His back to Frodo, and it seemed that He was turning His head as though looking for something. Hooded and cloaked the wraith turned its gaze towards Frodo, the darkness under the hood staring sightlessly at him. Frodo felt his heart stop beating as the dark gaze held him. His strength fled from his slim frame, and he began to tumble down, down into darkness.

Frodo regained a sense of reality as he hit the ground. All the air was forced out of his lungs, and he lay there stunned, and gasped for air. Somehow, he had lost his balance and fallen down. He shivered at the thought of the wraith atop the great tower. Finally, air flowed freely into his lungs, and the hobbit staggered to his feet.

"Are you alright Mr. Frodo," the hobbit and turned to see Sam looking upon him with great concern. Frodo wondered when his companion had woken. He did not even have the strength to answer, but merely nodded in response. His stomach growled, and the hobbit was conscious of being a little bit hungry. He did not want to waste any of the food that he had packed, and with his strength waning, he did not want to take the chance of wandering off, collapsing, and being left behind.

As the throng moved on, he found a bush with some wild strawberries. The ripest he picked, and popped into his mouth. The taste was sweet, and he savoured the taste of real food, because he knew that he would have to start eating _lembas_. Frodo felt a little better, and kept up with elves quick pace as best he could.

However, the elves had set a faster pace than usual, and the hobbit found that his strength faded quickly, and though Frodo tried his hardest to maintain his pace, he soon collapsed. Sam dropped down next to him, and helped Frodo to his feet.

"Come on Mr. Frodo," he encouraged. Frodo smiled weakly, and trotted weakly beside his friend, stumbling constantly. His sight began to worsen, and he noted that stationary objects now swayed wildly in front of him. Exhaustion took him very quickly, and by the time night had descended, Frodo was almost asleep on his feet.

To make things worse, ominous clouds began to loom overhead, and rain began to pour down. Thunder and lightning ripped across the sky, and woke the hobbit from his semi-sleep. The lightning lit up the impenetrable darkness, casting its light upon the elves, illuminating a different angle each time.

The ground grew slippery, and Frodo could see through his disillusioned state, that everyone around his was having a bit of difficulty walking in such conditions. He and Sam struggled along, slipping and occasionally falling into the icy-cold mud.

"A nice pickle you've gotten yourself into Samwise Gamgee," Sam muttered as he picked himself up out of the mud puddle that he had fallen into. His knees and hands were covered in mud, and his face was cross. An elf came over to them with Athelas, and took Sam up into his arms. Athelas picked Frodo up and carried him. The hobbit slipped in and out of consciousness, until finally darkness took him, and he slipped into a feverish sleep.

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Athelas looked down with concern at the sleeping hobbit in his arms. Every so often Frodo would writhe, but still would not wake. He noted that the Halfling's face was extremely pale, and he could feel the hobbit shaking ever so slightly. Shifting the hobbit so that he rested in one of his arms, Athelas placed his hand upon Frodo's forehead, and instantly retracted it. Frodo's brow was burning with heat, and Athelas felt the colour drain from his face.

"Frodo is ill," he exclaimed. Eáránë came towards him quickly, and placed her hand upon the Halfling's brow. His fever burned under the touch of her slender hand, and she shook her head, brushing his mess of curly hair away from his brow. Upon this action, Frodo's large eyes opened, and regarded what was transpiring.

"Why did you not tell us that you were sick?" Eáránë asked gently.

"I didn't want you to worry," he replied weakly.

"How long has he been sick for?" Athelas questioned Eáránë.

"It is hard to say," she replied. "Frodo keeps his pain to himself, but I would predict that this has been happening for a few days now."

"Days," Athelas was horrified at this idea. "But why would Frodo hide his pain?"

"So that we would not worry about him," Eáránë sighed, and placed her hand upon his burning brow again. Frodo groaned softly, and writhed in Athelas' arms. Eáránë shook her head sadly, and ran her fingers through the hobbit's curly auburn hair.

"Well what can we do?" Athelas asked urgently.

"We can do nothing," Eáránë answered, a distraught tone in her voice. "The body has to heal itself in these sorts of situations." She closed her eyes, and fought back the distress that was growing inside of her soul. She could not believe that this was happening. The threat of death was growing, but she did not have the heart to tell Athelas that Frodo was in danger of having death claim him.

Eáránë felt a slight pressure on her, and she opened her eyes to see that Frodo had placed his small hand upon her arm, and he was shaking with the effort. His normally pale skin was now ashen with illness, and he was squinting slightly up at her.

"Please don't worry about me Eáránë," he pleaded weakly.

"Keep your strength Frodo," she dismissed his concern, and passed her fingertips down his eyelids closing them. The hobbit obliged and passed into a restless sleep. Eáránë looked at Athelas, who had grown quite pale as well. He was looking at her with a pleading expression. "I cannot give you the reassurance that you seek Athelas." She hated to tell him this, but the elf would have to deal with the truth sooner or later.

"What's this with everyone getting sick?" Sam questioned angrily. No one answered this, and the hobbit trotted alongside Athelas looking at the sleeping form of his master. Galadriel joined them and looked at the small shivering form in the elf's arms.

Eáránë walked in a haze, oblivious to the majority of the happenings around her. The thought of losing Frodo was very painful. She did not quite know why it hurt so much to consider losing the Halfling, but whenever she dwelt upon the possibility of having the hobbit give up his breath of life made her heart ache.

Finally the elf was no longer able to bear the thoughts that were plaguing her mind. She could no longer be in the vicinity of the ill hobbit so she dropped back to walk with the others. She continued on in a slight daze, and was not conscious of the night descending, or lifting. Gathering her wits to her, Eáránë made her way towards Athelas.

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Athelas stared down at the shivering form of the Halfling with horror. He could not fathom the idea of losing him. Frodo had always been there for him through thick and thin. Whenever things were bad, the hobbit had always been his shoulder to cry on. Athelas could tell Frodo anything, and the Halfling had gotten him through some really tough spots when he was growing up.

The elf could not even comprehend the idea of no longer having Frodo there for him. He was not used to seeing the hobbit in such a helpless state. Frodo had always looked after him, and taken care of him no matter what the circumstances were. Athelas could only hope that Frodo's illness would pass, and that his life would become normal.

Only then did it occur to Athelas, that the hobbit would never be able to live a normal life. He realized to the fullest extent how much Frodo was forced to suffer, and he shuddered as the reality of all that The Ring-bearer had been through suddenly dawned on him. All the stories that Frodo had told him, and others had told him about Frodo were true. He had always known this, but it had never sunk in until now.

"How is Frodo?" Eáránë interrupted the elf's thought pattern hesitantly. She hoped that she was not going to receive bad news. She did not think that she could handle the thought that the hobbit was getting worse.

"No change really," he replied with a sigh. "He is not getting any better, but he is not getting any worse." Frodo thrashed wildly in Athelas' arms, and the elf had to hold onto him tightly to prevent the hobbit from falling from his grasp. "He has not done that though." He admitted, fear creeping into his voice. Eáránë smiled encouragingly at him, and placed her hand on Frodo's perspiring brow. The Halfling immediately ceased his thrashing, and Eáránë retracted her hand.

"Try not to worry Athelas," she suggested. "It is easier said than done though. I can be the first one to tell you that." She smiled grimly. "Worrying is something I do very well, even when it is something that is completely out of my control."

Galadriel joined them and inquired, "How is the Ring-bearer?"

"Ill," Athelas replied simply.

"Let us stop for a brief time then," she recommended. The throng stopped. The elf placed the hobbit down onto a little mound of soft grass, and tucked the Lórien cloak around his shivering form. He looked even smaller, vulnerable. Shaking her head, she turned and walked away. She did not want to consider what the hobbit would have to endure during his journey.

"Eáránë are you alright?" the elf's train of thought was interrupted by a soft voice. Turning, she perceived Frodo standing in front of her. He looked concerned, but weak as well. He was shaking ever so slightly, and his skin was still ashen with illness.

"What are you doing up?" she asked.

Frodo shrugged slightly, "I wanted to go for a walk." This sounded a bit odd to the elf, but she decided not to push it.

"You need to be resting Frodo Baggins." Eáránë gazed at him intently, and Frodo met her gaze steadily.

"I'm alright," he lied. Eáránë raised one of her eyebrows doubtfully, and the hobbit felt that she knew that he was not being truthful. He sighed in defeat, his shoulders inclining under the weight of his pain.

Eáránë placed her arm around his slim shoulders, and Frodo felt his pain lesson. He took in a breath, and let it out slowly savouring the moment. Presently he felt his stomach growl, so he shrugged off his pack, reached in, and pulled out an apple. The hobbit ate only when he absolutely had to. This feat was not as hard for Frodo because his appetite was not quite as ravenous as that of a normal hobbit, and he also was used to eating little, and tightening his belt, and going on despite his stomach.

Frodo squinted trying to bring the fruit into focus so he could eat it. Eáránë gently took it from him, and the hobbit watched in interest as she cut into the flesh of the fruit with her fingernails. The elf twisted the apple, and cleanly it broke in half. Eáránë handed the apple back to him, and he found that it was easier to hold now that it was halved. Gratefully he sunk his teeth into the sweet flesh of the fruit, and munched on it happily.

"You can have that half if you'd like," he offered, but the elf politely declined, and Frodo dispensed the core of his fruit. "Perhaps an apple tree will grow there someday." He pondered aloud, and Eáránë smiled at him, gracefully stood, and glided to the spot where his core had landed. Descending onto her knees, the elf buried the core into the ground, patting the soil around it.

"Tuiama titta er," she murmured, and the ground shook slightly underneath her fingertips. Removing her hand, she beckoned the hobbit to come and join her. Frodo unsteadily slid from the rock, and trotted towards her. He wondered what she had done, and was surprised to see a tiny little tree where he had discarded his apple core. He smiled at the new life before him.

Eáránë stood and brushed the soil off of her black gown, "An apple tree for someone to enjoy in the years to come." She placed her hands on his shoulders, and gently directed him to where Athelas was searching frantically.

"Frodo," Athelas exclaimed with a mixture of anger and relief. "Where were you?"

"He was with me Athelas," Eáránë replied calmly. "He came to see if I was alright."

"What if you had gotten lost Frodo?" Athelas asked furiously. Eáránë frowned and stood protectively behind the hobbit.

"I appreciate your concern Athelas," Frodo assured the elf. "But I can look after myself." Athelas turned crimson, and muttered something. Frodo gently broke from Eáránë and went to Athelas, and placed his small hand on the elf's arm.

"You scared me, and Sam," Athelas admitted, his face still crimson. "I did not mean to snap at you, just that the thought of losing you was a very hard thing to comprehend."

"Mr. Frodo," Sam raced forward and almost threw himself onto Frodo, but he decided against it. "I thought I'd lost you." He did not need to say it, but it was the truth. Frodo let his companion lead him towards his little bed of grass, and he curled up and closed his eyes until he heard Sam's soft footfalls going in the opposite direction. Rolling onto his back, the Halfling began to contemplate some of the happenings.

His thoughts turned to darker matters. He was ill, and so his thoughts were difficult to organize, but he sifted through them as well as he could. He wondered where in Middle-earth the Ring was. He knew that it must be in Gollum's possession, but the question then was the fact of where Gollum was. The hobbit was glad for the seventeen years that he had had to regain his strength. He would need it to battle against the will of the Ring. He knew that he had already bent under it once, but he still had to destroy it. It was still his task, and he shuddered at the thought of what lay before him.

Opening his eyes, he perceived that everything was fairly dark, but his sharp eyes soon adjusted to the lack of light. He wondered how close they were to Minis Tirith, but there was no one in the vicinity to ask. He heard the slight rustle of fabric, and saw the scout glide toward Eáránë and Galadriel.

"I urqui rúmanna i Hyarmen," she informed the two elven-women.

"Ana i Nórësa Sauron," gasped Eáránë, and the scout nodded. Frodo wished that he could understand what was being said, and yet at the same time, he was not sure that he wanted to know what they were talking about. He suspected that it was something to do with the orcs, but he couldn't be certain. He could tell by the tone of their voices, that the news was not positive.

The hobbit waited until after the scout took her leave, and then he stood and made his way over to Eáránë and Galadriel. He wondered if he should ask them what had transpired. As elves it was more than likely that he would not get a straight answer out of them. This was the way of the elves. Their mystery was one that he would never understand.

"What did the scout have to say?" he questioned as soon as he was close enough. Eáránë looked at Galadriel, but the Lady shook her head slightly in response.

"Do not worry about such things," she instructed the Halfling gently.

"Why," he challenged. "Why shouldn't I know what is going on?"

"You have enough to worry about already," replied Eáránë, and she placed her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "Some things are better left unsaid."

Frodo realized that any other attempts of finding out what had transpired were futile, so he returned to his mound of grass, but he could not sleep. Endless amounts of thoughts plagued his mind. Sitting up, the hobbit wrapped his Lórien cloak around his shivering form, and stared blankly into the night, the darkness of the world reflecting the darkness of his thoughts. His eyelids became heavy, and he decided to close his eyes just for a moment to rest them.

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Frodo opened his eyes to the heavy darkness of a forest. With him was Sam, who had been poking him. Frodo wearily got to his feet, and felt an unusual weight around his neck. He recognized it as The One Ring, and he wondered how it had come into his possession. Trembling, he brought the tiny gold circlet and placed it in his palm. It was so beautiful, and Frodo caressed its cold metallic surface.

Quickly he jerked his hand away. He was not going to let this thing possess him again. He had already been won over by its will once, and he fought against it with what little strength he had left.

"Come on Mr. Frodo," Sam encouraged his master cheerfully. Frodo clasped the Ring in his hand and followed Sam. Stepping on a tree root, Frodo lost his balance, and fell to the ground. As he fell back, the Ring flew up, and landed on his finger. Immediately his surroundings changed into shapes of black and grey and blurred together, so that it was very difficult for the hobbit to see anything. As he turned around, he saw the wraith that he had seen atop Barad-dûr coming towards him.

"You cannot hide," the wraith reached for him with its cruelly armoured hand. Its breath rasped out from the blackness beneath the hood. Frodo scrambled away from it, raised his arms in front of his face, and squeezed his eyes shut.

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"Mr. Frodo," Sam's voice jerked him awake. Frodo caught his breath, got to his feet, and stretched. He was relieved to find that he was feeling much better than he had been. His illness must have passed in the night. He certainly did not feel completely rested, but he was up for the journey that lay ahead of him.

"Do you know how much farther it is until we reach Minas Tirith?" he asked his companion. Sam shook his head in response, and they continued on in silence.

Frodo's strength soon left him, and he struggled along behind the elves, while they nonchalantly walked past him. The hobbit saw that flat plains were stretched out before the company. His spirits rose hopefully, reflecting that perhaps they were closer to Minas Tirith than he knew. He could not see it though, so he assumed that they still had quite a distance to go.

"We have now found the Old South Road," Galadriel announced. Our journey to Minas Tirith is getting shorter. From here it is mainly flat grounds, so we should make good progress."

This being said, the elves picked up their pace until the two hobbits were practically running to keep up. Frodo could feel the air tearing into his lungs, and his sides began to ache. Soon he was panting, and perspiration was streaming down his slim frame.

"Well this is one way to get exercise Mr. Frodo," Sam puffed beside him. "Although you'd think that there'd be some consideration for those who can't keep up." Frodo nodded breathlessly, he did not know how much longer he could keep this up for. His small body was aching with fatigue, and he knew that Sam was feeling the pain as well. His suspicions were confirmed when Sam collapsed on the ground in a heap.

Frodo helped his friend to his feet, and Sam groaned, "Just using a few forgotten muscles Mr. Frodo." Frodo laughed at this, and placed Sam's arm around his shoulders and supported him as best he could.

This hindered the elves, but they resolved to not stop until nightfall. Frodo wished that night would descend quickly. Sam was a heavy burden, but one worth carrying. It was the least the hobbit could do to repay his friend for everything that Sam had done for him, but he still could not ignore the fact that Sam was extremely heavy.

When the night finally did descend, Frodo gratefully collapsed on the ground. He knew that they could only rest for a few moments, but that would be enough to get some of his strength back. The temperature was dropping around them, and a cruel wind began to gust as though it had the intention of blowing them all over.

They began walking again, and the unpleasant cold bit at their faces, and Frodo squinted against the wind that was stinging the exposed skin of his face. He was still supporting Sam, who seemed to be getting heavier as the time passed. The hobbit knew that this was due to the fact that his strength was waning, but that did not make it any less difficult.

"Sure is cold Mr. Frodo," Sam shivered. Frodo nodded frigidly, and the two of them continued to stumble along in the elves' wake. "Well on the bright side, Rose's been on me to lose a touch of weight anyway." Sam panted. "Though this is not how I would've expected to lose it."

Frodo looked over at his friend. Sam was dressed in brown breeches, a white buttoned shirt, a silver vest, the grey Lórien cloak, and a great pack which many pots and pans dangled. He had a kindly simple face, and rusty-brown hair. His skin was a healthy brown, and his blue eyes sparkled happily giving him a lovable look. The seventeen years had not changed Sam very much, except that he had put on some weight since Frodo had last seen him.

"I'm sure that by the end of the journey, you'll have lost a sufficient amount of weight Sam," Frodo pointed out. Sam nodded sullenly, and lapsed into silence.

Frodo looked over at Eáránë, and wondered if she was alright. Leaving Sam to trot along unsteadily, the hobbit made his way over to the elf, and trotted quietly beside her for a few moments.

"How are you feeling Frodo," the elf asked.

"Better," he replied truthfully. "What about you?"

"I am different, I always have been," she admitted to him. "My ideals are considered to be somewhat negative, and my skills with my kin are far from being adequate."

"For what it's worth," Frodo spoke up quietly. "I know what it's like. I know how it feels to be alone."

"You are not alone," Eáránë assured him gently.

"Galadriel told me that to bear a Ring of Power is to be alone," he argued softly.

"I am here," Eáránë placed her arm around him. "I always will be."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTranslations in order of appearanceOrcs

**Orcs**

**Do not slay life**

**Awaken light of Venus**

**Light of the Elves protect us**

**Sprout little one**

**The orcs move to the South**

**To the land of Sauron**


	6. Chapter 5 A Rising of Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Comments: I've sort of given up on getting any reviews on this story, but they would still be appreciated.**

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_**Chapter 5**_

A Rising of Darkness

Darkness descended heavily upon the elves. It was the sort of darkness that a mortal would be lost in. There was an Evil air to this darkness that placed each individual on edge. Despite the unease that was most definitely upon everyone's mind, the throng continued on. Silent as shadows they glided through the darkness a slight mist rising from their gliding strides.

Eáránë looked around at the darkness silently. She wondered how they would appear to any traveler. She mused that they probably appeared as the Nine would, and that alone would cause any traveller to maintain their distance. She felt that dark really seemed to reflect the state of her mind, but she had always been the type to brood over the could feel her anger and sadness rising painfully inside of her.

The elf turned away, and fled into the forest. She did not stop until her lungs could no longer function properly. She stopped, pulled her cloak around her slender form, and stood unmoving. Tears pricked at her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried to deny those tears, they came anyway.

"Eáránë," Frodo's soft voice penetrated the darkness of the elf. "What's wrong?" The elf felt her heart lift slightly with the knowledge of his presence.

"It is nothing that you need to worry yourself over," she tried to keep her voice from cracking. Frodo heard the strain in the elf's voice, made his way over to her, and gently placed his small hand onto her arm.

"I know there's something wrong," Frodo retorted gently. "Please tell me what it is."

"I am positive that it will pass," Eáránë dismissed her feelings to the best of her ability. Frodo knew that he would not get any more information from the elf, so he decided to no longer question her.

"Well we should be getting back to the others," he broke the silence that had fallen upon them. Eáránë allowed the hobbit to lead her back to the throng. She speculated that perhaps she was imagining the problem to be bigger than it truly was. She walked with Frodo. She found the presence of the Halfling soothing.

"Feeling any better?" he asked with concern.

"Who says that I was not feeling well before?" she retorted gently.

"I do," Frodo answered. "There's something wrong, I know it."

"You have much more important things than me to worry about Frodo Baggins," she reminded.

"I don't like seeing people I know suffer," the hobbit returned. Something the way he said it prodded at the elf's raw emotions, and tears blurred her vision. Wiping these away, the elf tried to appear as though she was calm. "Eáránë if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me." Frodo offered, and the elf was struck once again by the thoughtfulness of the hobbit. He had suffered so much, and yet he was still willing to listen to her petty problems.

"I thank you Frodo Baggins," she returned gratefully, "but I do not wish to trouble you with my struggles."

"That doesn't mean that I can't listen to the troubles of others," he retorted.

"I was not insinuating that you could not handle it," Eáránë reassured him. "It is only that I do not wish to bore you."

"I wouldn't find it boring," the hobbit seemed shocked at her words.

"Well perhaps another time Frodo," she smiled down at him. The conversation had improved her mood. Sam joined them, and Eáránë gazed silently at Frodo as the two hobbits conversed.

She knew that it was difficult for Frodo to relate to his friend. He had been altered so much because of his journey that he no longer felt that he fit into the world of Halflings. She knew what it was like to not fit in, and knew that it was not an enjoyable thing. She admired Frodo for his considerable nature. He never complained about anything, and faced everything with a quiet determination that was impressive for someone of his stature.

Eáránë felt inspired by this hobbit. For all the pains that he suffered through he kept them to himself. Suffering in silence, something that Eáránë could relate to. She wondered what it was that kept him going. She cringed to think of how unfortunate it was that a creature so gentle and kind had to suffer so much. The elf wanted to help him, but she did not know how she could. She was an elf, and he, a hobbit. She speculated that he thought of her as just another elf, a mysterious being that spoke in riddles.

This train of thought began to cause the elf's heart to ache. She did not understand what was causing her grief. She glanced upon Frodo with pained eyes, and realized with surprise that she was looking upon him in a way that she had never looked upon any other being. Her heart was filled with new emotions that she had never before experienced.

Furiously the elf turned her head away from the two Halflings. Unable to bear it any longer, Eáránë strode away to collect her thoughts. Her heart was filled with pain, betrayal and anger. She pulled her cloak tighter around her slender form, and gazed thoughtfully down upon her white fore-arm. In a moment of fury, she ripped her nails across her white wrist, and then dropped her arms under her cloak.

"Why'd you leave?" the elf was startled upon hearing Frodo's voice behind her.

"I needed to collect my thoughts," she replied dully. Frodo noted the change in her voice, and trotted over to her side.

"Eáránë," he looked up at her, concern in his large blue eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you insist on asking me that?" Eáránë was surprised at the bitterness of her voice, and cringed to think of what his reaction would be.

"Because I know that something's bothering you," he replied. "And I honestly think that you'd feel better if you told someone."

"I am going through a difficult time right now that is all," the elf informed him curtly. She hated the way that she was speaking to him, but she had no control over it. Frodo gently took her hand and squeezed it. Eáránë felt a sense of calmness fall over her and sighed heavily.

Frodo was reluctant to let go of the elf's hand. He wanted her to tell him what it was that was bothering her so much. He hated seeing her in this state. Gently he ran his hand over hers, and felt something unusual at the base of the heel of her hand. Eáránë tried to pull her hand away but he held on. Turning over her arm, the hobbit was horrified to see an angry mark across her wrist. Softly he ran his fingertips over the mark, and Eáránë flinched slightly at his touch.

"Sorry," Frodo apologized, his voice as soft as his touch on her skin.

"Why are you apologizing?" she asked gently. Frodo looked up at her, and held her eyes with his for a moment. The elf felt comforted by him, more at ease. She felt that with him she did not have to worry about the way that she acted, which was a tremendous relief. Eáránë felt genuinely happier with him being with her, and for the first time in her long life, she felt as though she belonged. Painfully reality struck her. The journey upon which he was about to engage was likely to claim his life. Even though she was not the type to believe in destiny, she had to admit, that the odds of him surviving what lay ahead of him, were slim to none. Breaking from him, Eáránë brought her hands to her face and began to weep.

"I'm sorry Eáránë," Frodo had never seen the elf so distressed. "I didn't mean to make you upset."

"It is not your fault," the elf tried to compose herself.

"Then what has made you so upset?" his voice was heavy with genuine concern that only made Eáránë want to weep harder.

"I am worried for you," she admitted. "I fear for your safety. I know the path you must tread, and it is not one from which many travellers would return."

"The path to Mordor is full of peril," Frodo agreed. "I know because I tread it once before. I was lucky to escape with my life, but sometimes I wish that the quest had claimed my existence, for it has destroyed me in other ways. I am a shadow Eáránë. I don't even consider myself to be a hobbit anymore. I don't know where I fit in, and I don't know anyone who can help me. I feel so alone in this world, and I feel that no one understands me." The hobbit sighed, and Eáránë smiled sadly. He did not know that she dealt with many of the things that he had described.

"You are not alone," she assured him softly.

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Athelas strode quietly beside Gandalf. Looking around, he noted that Frodo had strayed off again. The elf sighed, and shook his head in exasperation. Frodo was probably with that elven-maiden Eáránë. Athelas shuddered slightly, something about her darkness made him uneasy. Aside from Idril, she was the only elf that wore black, but unlike Idril, everything about her was dark. He did not like how she silently glided along watching him, her cool blue-grey eyes freezing his very soul. Athelas had never met an elf that he could not maintain eye contact with besides Galadriel, but he found Eáránë's cool gaze quite unnerving.

"Gandalf," Athelas turned to the wizard. "What do you know about the elf-maiden that Frodo has been with?"

"Eáránë?" the wizard returned, and Athelas nodded. "I know that she is the Lady's most skilled healer. In fact I have heard that her power is considered to be comparable to the power of Galadriel though she is much younger."

"Can she be trusted?" Athelas inquired anxiously. Gandalf turned his attention to the elf and looked at him keenly, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.

"Can any being that possess power be trusted?" he asked dryly.

"I guess not," Athelas mumbled. He always felt a fool after discussing matters with the White Wizard.

"My heart tells me that she will aide Frodo is some way," Gandalf informed the elf. "She is pure of heart…"

Athelas snorted with disdain, "Eáránë pure hearted?"

"Have you actually spoken to her, and tried to get to know her?" the wizard's keen eyes burned under his furrowed brow.

"Well, no," Athelas admitted.

"Then you are in no position to judge her," Gandalf lectured. "Never judge an individual by their appearance Athelas. In time you will know how to read people properly, until then you must be patient. You do not know the paths she has tread, or the things she has seen. She is much older than you, and you must treat her with the respect that is due."

"She seems to genuinely care for Frodo," Athelas admitted. Gandalf nodded and they strode in silence. Finally Athelas had to break the stillness. "Have you ever seen an elf as dark as she Gandalf?"

"Dark elves are a type of elf Athelas," the wizard replied. "However I have never seen an elf of Lórien to have the dark character that she possesses."

"She does not seem to belong with her kin," Athelas remarked. "She seems almost to be a shadow."

"She is an elf Athelas," Gandalf rebuked sternly. "Whether she fits to your standards or not, she will always be an elf."

"She is set apart though is she not?" Athelas inquired.

"She is unique Athelas," the wizard replied coolly. "Can you think of no one else who is?"

Athelas did not see what the wizard was hinting at. When he thought of Eáránë, he saw someone who did not belong. Her ideals and attitude set her apart from the rest of her kin. She was simply different, probably changed by the events in her life. Athelas knotted his brow trying to think of who else this sounded like. Facing Gandalf, he shamefully shook his head.

"You will know in time," the wizard assured him. "All you need is time."

The elf sighed and looked up to see Eáránë and Frodo coming from the forest to join the throng. They were immediately joined by Sam, and Athelas noted that Eáránë never took her eyes off of Frodo for a moment. Feeling the need to protect the hobbit, Athelas decided to intervene.

"Frodo you must stop wandering off," he beseeched the hobbit as soon as he was close enough.

"It is not Frodo's fault Athelas," Eáránë spoke quietly. "He came to see if I was alright."

"Well I suggest that you stop doing that Frodo," Athelas replied heatedly. "We have a long way to go, and we cannot keep waiting for you."

"You don't expect me just to leave her though do you?" Frodo asked anxiously. "Eáránë's dealing with some difficult things and I want to help her."

"You have more important things to worry about than her," Athelas informed him.

"Athelas that's quite unnecessary," Frodo exclaimed. "I don't think of her troubles to be a waste of time."

"I am alright now anyway," Eáránë replied.

"And are you?" Athelas challenged. Eáránë frowned and nodded, but Athelas noticed that she was holding her left wrist in an unusual fashion. Grabbing her wrist he looked upon the mark upon it. "If you are fine, why did you do this?"

"I was angry," Eáránë replied.

"Well I do not consider this to be fine," Athelas replied disdainfully. "I suggest that you keep yourself and your problems away from him. Do you not think that he has enough to deal with already without having to deal with your problems?"

"Athelas," Frodo exclaimed.

"No Frodo," Eáránë replied dully. "Athelas is right. I will do you a favour and maintain my distance." With this being said, the elf turned and glided gracefully away. Angrily Frodo turned upon Athelas.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded furiously.

"To keep you safe," the elf replied. "I do not trust her."

"I'd trust Eáránë with my life," Frodo argued defiantly.

"It seems that she has bewitched you," Athelas commented coldly.

"She's been nothing but kind to me," Frodo retorted angrily. "She needs no sorcery Athelas. If you only knew her, then you'd realise how wrong you are about her."

"I do not need to know her to know that she is bad news," Athelas snapped.

"How is she bad news Athelas?" Frodo demanded.

"Her darkness is rubbing off on you, and I will not let it continue," the elf retorted.

"You're not in control of my life!" Frodo exclaimed. "Eáránë isn't bad. She's different, she doesn't quite fit in, but neither do I Athelas. Do you despise me?"

"Of course not," Athelas was horrified at the thought.

"Then why do you look upon Eáránë with such disdain?" the Halfling inquired.

Athelas sighed, "I am afraid that she would inspire you to consider negative thoughts or actions."

"What Eáránë did was an act of frustration," Frodo informed the elf.

Athelas sighed, his shoulders hunching forward in defeat, "You are probably right Frodo." He admitted. "I was afraid that you would become negative about the journey upon which you are treading. It was wrong of me to take it out on Eáránë, but in truth Frodo, she frightens me."

"Eáránë's never inspired negative thoughts into my head," the hobbit assured him. "In fact she's been encouraging me, and helping me to see things in a better light."

Athelas sighed heavily, "Well I suppose the proper thing to do would be to apologize." Frodo nodded, and the elf swallowed hard, squared his shoulders, and set off in the direction that Eáránë had gone.

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Eáránë glided silently along staring ahead, but not seeing anything. She did not feel the cold on her skin. She did not see the darkness setting in. All she was conscious of was the hurt in her heart. What Athelas had said of her, had truly wounded her.

"Inyë merë ana quetnna ilyë," Athelas interrupted the silence that had descended. Athelas looked at Eáránë uncomfortably.

"Elyë merë ana quetnnan,"she questioned quietly. Athelas nodded his head sullenly."Quetsan."

"Inyë yello an handëlya," he looked upon her, trying to show her that he truly meant his words.

"Hanyanyë," she assured him gently. Athelas smiled grimly and wondered how to say what it was that he wanted to say. "Ta ná ilya vanima."She surprisedhim by speaking. "Hanyanyë elyë caurë an i Periannath." She assured him.

Athelas responded, "Ta ná lá tyarnna…"

"Quildë," Eáránë placed a gentle hand onto his arm. "Uin nwalya cilmessëlya."

Athelas was grateful for her gentleness and understanding. He had expected a more violent outbreak from her, but now he could see that Frodo had a point. If he was to try to understand Eáránë, he had to try and get to know her first. Though she still unnerved him, he could see that she was not evil, just different.

"Elyë uin maurë ana lárnnan," he informed her. Eáránë smiled quietly and regarded him intently. Athelas shifted uncomfortably underneath her gaze, and left her. Eáránë glided quietly towards Frodo.

The hobbit looked up and upon seeing her, his solemn face broke into a smile. His large blue eyes gazed intently up at her, and Eáránë returned his gaze steadily. One of the things she found fascinating about the Halfling was that she could always find something new to see in his eyes. She gazed into his depths and saw the same hooded shapeless face staring out at her that she had seen in Barad-dûr. She took a frightened step back, and Frodo looked upon her with concern.

"You have seen Him," she gasped. "Why did you not tell me?"

"It was just a dream," Frodo explained. "I didn't know it meant anything."

"Was it not a dream that caused you to go to the Lady?" Eáránë asked cunningly. Frodo's pale face became white, and his large eyes widened.

"Dreams don't always mean anything though do they?" Frodo asked tentatively.

"No," the elf admitted. "But I believe that you already know that it was Him that you saw. How many times has he come before you in his new form?"

"Enough," he replied. Eáránë frowned and looked upon him with an intensity that she had never administered upon the hobbit. Frodo was unable to hold her gaze and looked at the ground.

"There is something that you are not telling me Frodo," Eáránë accused him softly. The hobbit did not raise his eyes. The elf sighed, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "It is all right. You do not have to tell me, if you do not wish to. It is your business, not mine."

Frodo looked up at the elf, "Do you really mean that?" He asked his voice full of doubt. Eáránë nodded, and a tiny smile lightened her solemn face.

"I think that you had better find Master Samwise," suggested the elf. "I believe that he has been trying to find you, and he is quite worried."

Frodo laughed quietly, "That's Sam alright." He smiled up at Eáránë and trotted off. The elf watched him retreat until he was taken from her sight by the many other elven forms. She continued to glide along quietly, but unease began to creep through her slender body. Again quietness had descended that was unnerving in its potency, and the darkness was heavy about her. She became quite chilled, an experience that had never occurred before. Eáránë wondered if anyone else was noticing a change, or if she was simply imagining it.

She heard Sam's voice, "What's the matter Mr. Frodo?" Eáránë weaved her way through the many elves until she could see both of the Halflings. She looked upon Frodo with concern. His small body was quivering slightly.

"Did it get cold all of a sudden?" he asked his companion.

Sam frowned, "I don't think so Mr. Frodo."

"You don't feel that?" the hobbit asked with greater urgency. Sam shivered abruptly and was forced to admit that it had grown colder. Eáránë pulled her grey cloak around her slender form. The coldness was descending into her very core, chilling her soul.

All of a sudden there tore through the silence a most terrible shriek. Eáránë subconsciously covered her ears to escape from the cry. It was similar to the cry that she had heard in the Fortress of Barad-dûr. She knew what had uttered that cry.

"Úlairi!" cried Galadriel. The name sent a deeper chill into the elf. Quickly she yelled a translation for the two hobbits. The elves scattered, but Frodo remained rooted to the spot.

"They've come for me," he whispered, his large eyes wide with fear. The screech sounded again, and Frodo fell to the ground clutching his shoulder. Sam tried to pull his master up in vain.

"Please Mr. Frodo get up," he begged.

"I can't," Frodo replied. "You go without me Sam."

"No I'm not leaving you," Sam insisted, and he continued to try to help Frodo to his feet. Eáránë watched this from her refuge on the ground. Her eyes widened as she saw nine dark shapes approaching the Halflings. She looked at Frodo, and knew that she could not let him be killed. Gathering her courage, the elf stood up from her hiding place and stood protectively in front of the two hobbits. The wraiths stopped and made a hissing noise which Eáránë soon recognized to be laughter. One of the wraiths stepped forward, and Eáránë knew that she was looking upon the Witch-king of Morgul, the wraith who had stabbed Frodo on Amon Sûl.

"Get out of the way she-elf," he rasped. Eáránë was surprised that her fear did not increase, but rather her resolve to protect Frodo even if it meant that she would have to sacrifice her own life became greater.

"You will have to get through me to get to him," she replied looking unflinchingly upon the darkness underneath his hood. The wraith drew out his sword which glinted cruelly. "Valasa i Quendi, tulin anan!" the elf cried. The Witch-king halted for a moment, and then hissed triumphantly.

"Your elvish words are no match against the power of Sauron," rasped the voice. He advanced towards the elf, and raised his sword to strike.

"Eáránë watch out!" Frodo cried from behind the elf. Eáránë raised her right hand as the sword came down and winced as the point drove through her palm. The Witch-king released the hilt of his sword in surprise and took a step back. The sword began to smoke, and Eáránë pulled it from her palm. Frodo could see from where he lay, that the blade was covered in a silver substance.

The elf did not even feel the pain in her hand, as she passed the sword into her right hand. She advanced upon the wraiths which began to look at each other doubtfully. Only the Witch-king did not seem impressed by her actions.

"Fool," he rasped. "No being can destroy me."

"No," she agreed. "But I can make you wish you were able to die." And she plunged the sword into the shapeless darkness underneath the hood. The Witch-king shrieked horribly, and clawed at his hood. The sword began to smoke again, and the wraiths retreated into the darkness.

Eáránë turned to the hobbits, "Are you alright?" She asked in concern. Sam nodded, but his face was white with fear. Frodo rose to his feet, and came towards her.

"You saved us," he exclaimed, "thank-you." Eáránë smiled down at him, took his hand and squeezed it. Frodo allowed his hand to linger in her grasp, but began to feel liquid dripping onto his palm. Letting go of her hand, the hobbit saw that his hand was covered in the same silver substance that he had seen on the blade of the wraith. He looked at the hand of the elf and saw that this silver liquid was also running down her fingers and onto the ground. Frodo gently took her wrist, and was horrified to see that there was a wound through the hand of the elf.

"You're wounded," he exclaimed. Eáránë glanced down at the injury, and winced as the pain finally registered. Frodo took off his pack, rummaged through it for a few minutes, and finally pulled out an old piece of fabric. Ripping a strip off, the Halfling gently bound it around the bleeding hand of the elf.

"We cannot linger here," Galadriel announced. "We must keep moving, we make less likely targets if we keep moving. We will have to increase our pace until the sun rises. I doubt that the Nine will try to attack us again, but our time is beginning to run out. We can no longer afford to stop. From now on whoever may fall behind is left behind."

Athelas quietly picked up Frodo, and another elf kindly volunteered to carry Sam, and they set off again. Their pace was quick, and soon Sam was snoring with content in the strong arms of the elf. Frodo glanced beside him to where Eáránë was gliding silently.

"You should rest Frodo," she suggested, while gently running her fingertips over his eyelids. Frodo did as he was told and could feel exhaustion overcoming him.

"Will you sing me something?" he asked his voice heavy with fatigue.

"Certainly," Eáránë smiled, and began to sing softly.

"_I __Tië lelyaoi or ar or_

_Undu ho i ando yassens autas._

_Sí vahaia i Tië haryanna heca,_

_Ar iny__ë __haryanna aiquen, hilyai ti__ë,_

_Raimë ta laicë talmas,_

_An ta __ná __yanwë i alta tië_

_Yassen limbë tië ar móta__nar __omentië._

_Ar yassen san? Iny__ë __uin ista."_

Eáránë finished her song, and Frodo's soft breathing was enough for the elf to know that he was asleep.

Eáránë noted that even in his sleep the Halfling still appeared to be troubled. She gently brushed his curly dark-auburn hair away from the pale skin of his face. The elf gazed down at his sleeping form tenderly. Her heart ached to know what it was that he was to face on his journey. The horrors that she knew lay ahead of the hobbit filled her with anguish.

"Hehtalyë nyérë," she whispered. "Elyë lúmë selma tulin. Elyë selma mahtai hossësaiÚmëa Quén, ar elyë selma palpas." Then she smiled at Athelas and glided away into the darkness.

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**Translations in order of appearance**

**I wish to speak with you**

**You wish to speak with me**

**Speak then**

**I call for your understanding**

**I understand**

**It is all right**

**I understand your fear for the Halfling**

**That is no reason to**

**Hush**

**Do not pain yourself**

**You do not need to listen to me**

**Ring-wraiths**

**Power of the elves, come to me**

**The Road goes ever on and on**

**Down from the door where it began.**

**Now far ahead the Road has gone,**

**And I must follow, if I can,**

**Pursuing it with eager feet,**

**Until it joins some larger way**

**Where many paths and errands meet.**

**And whither then? I cannot say.**

**Abandon your grief**

**Your time will come**

**You will face the army of the Evil One and you will beat it**


	7. Chapter 6 Arrival at Minas Tirith

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

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_**Chapter 6**_

Arrival at Minas Tirith

Frodo woke, and stretched. The sun was shining brightly, and the hobbit could plainly see that they were no where near out of the field. Instead, open field stretched for miles ahead, and in the distance Frodo could see the white kingdom of Gondor.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw darkness, and turned his gaze towards it. The hobbit's breath caught in his throat as he looked upon Mordor. Subconsciously he wrapped his cloak more tightly around his slim frame. He heard the soft rustling of fabric, and felt Eáránë place her arm around him. Frodo gently placed his small hand onto hers, and felt somewhat comforted with her behind him, but still surveyed Mordor with dread. He knew that all too soon, he would be back in The Land of Shadow to complete the task that had been appointed to him those many years ago. Frodo sighed, shuddered and the elf turned him around gently towards Gondor.

"There is the City of Kings," cried Galadriel. "It will still take some time before we reach the gate, so let us be on our way."

"How is your hand?" Frodo asked Eáránë. The elf smiled upon his concern, and unwound the make-shift bandage that he had made for her. All that was left of the wound was a white scar on her palm. Frodo gently ran his fingers over the scar, and Eáránë felt a strange sensation course through her slender body.

She felt her senses become heightened, and her skin prickle at Frodo's gentle touch. She could feel her heart beginning to pound in her chest, and her respiration become rapid. Her lips quivered slightly, and she felt her cheeks grow hot. Eáránë wished desperately to regain control of her body, but in vain. She felt ashamed that she was reacting so much to such a simple action. Still her blood continued to burn in her veins, and soon the elf could feel her entire body beginning to tremble slightly under his gentle caress. She was relieved when Frodo abruptly pulled his fingers away from her palm.

"Sorry," he said, colour rising into his cheeks. He had allowed his fingers to linger upon her palm forgetting that time was still passing. He struggled to control his own emotions, and looked up at the elf. She looked as she always did, stunning. She reminded Frodo of a black rose, dark, but beautiful. Sighing heavily, Frodo turned and walked beside the elf towards Minas Tirith.

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The young woman stood poised on a rock. The wind blew her long dark-brown hair about, and her eyes were closed tightly in concentration. Her skin was pale and her ears were pointed, showing her elvish ancestry. She was dressed in a green and white tunic that hung to her mid thigh, and was clasped with a black belt. Her slender legs were covered in white leggings, and black boots that went up to her knees. On her back hung a bow, and at her belt hung a sword.

Abruptly the maiden spun around, and brought out her sword and skilfully met it to the sword of a young man. They battled fiercely until the maiden skilfully got the sword out of the hands of the young man and pressed the tip of her sword to his neck.

"You're improving Evan," she remarked lowering her sword. The green eyes of the fifteen year old lit up at her praise. "But what's this?" She asked pulling the fuzz on his cheek affectionately.

"That's the beginning of a beard," replied the youth proudly.

"That's fuzz, and you know it," the maiden countered punching the youth playfully on his arm.

"Elanor what do you think you are doing?" both the youth and the maiden turned around simultaneously to see another maiden with an elvish appearance coming towards them. She was dressed in a purple and silver gown which was quite revealing, her brown hair waved down her shoulders, and her grey eyes were furrowed with disgust.

"I'm teaching your boyfriend how to fight Niphredil," replied Elanor, her blue eyes sparkling mischievously. Niphredil looked horrified.

"You are a lady Elanor," Niphredil looked with beseeching eyes upon the other. "You are Princess of Gondor."

"And you're jealous, that it's me and not you," Elanor replied smartly. Niphredil's face turned an unattractive shade of purple.

"I cannot believe that I am related to you," she cried, and fled away through the gate.

"I'll go calm her down," offered Evan and sprinted off after Niphredil. Elanor watched him go, and then turned her gaze towards The Land of Shadow. It was darker than yesterday, and it seemed to Elanor that each day it became darker. Her instincts told her that something was amiss, but she did not know what.

Elanor was the daughter of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, King of Gondor, and Arwen Evenstar, daughter of Elrond. She had been named after the golden flowers in Lothlórien that had been present when Aragorn and Arwen first met.

"Elanor," the maid turned at the wail of a young child. Running towards her was little seven year old Alfirin, Elanor's youngest and favourite sister. Alfirin was dressed in a white cotton dress, and her brown hair was in disarray. Her face was streaked with tears, and her little feet were bare of shoes. "Niphredil…necklace…" And she began to sob. Elanor gently picked up her baby sister and held her close.

"Sweet Alfirin, what's wrong," she cooed softly running her fingers through the child's mess of hair. Alfirin sniffed loudly and wiped her nose on her arm.

"Niphredil took my necklace," the child replied and pouted.

Elanor frowned, "Niphredil took the silver necklace that Mother gave to you without asking?" Alfirin sniffed and nodded her head. "Oh she's in serious trouble." Elanor frowned and began the long trek up to the white palace.

Elanor was grateful for her good physique. The walk up to the palace was a long and tiring one. With the extra weight of Alfirin however, the maid was sweating by the time she actually reached the entrance to the palace. From there it was stairs, stairs and more stairs, until at last she was standing outside of Niphredil's room. Inside she could hear giggling, and silly promises that were to be expected from youths.

"Now you wait here," Elanor instructed Alfirin. The child pouted, and sat down upon the floor, and wiped her nose on her arm again. Elanor boldly opened the door and beheld Niphredil wrapped in Evan's arms.

"Niphredil Elessar, what do you think you're doing?" Elanor thundered. The two youths broke from their embrace immediately, and Niphredil glared at Elanor.

"What are you doing in my room?" Niphredil asked with vexation.

"Niphredil you're thirteen years old, you're too young to be thinking of intimacy," Elanor did not answer her sister. She turned to Evan who quailed under her angry gaze. "You should know better than that Evan." She said. "You should be ashamed of yourself." Evan hung his head. "Leave." Elanor instructed. The youth obeyed, his entire body hunched in embarrassment.

"Elanor, just because you are nineteen years old gives you no right to control my life," shrieked Niphredil.

"If Mother had been here, I'm sure she would've said the same thing," Elanor replied.

"Why are you still here?" asked Niphredil furiously. "Get out of my room."

"You can't tell me what to do Niphredil Elessar," Elanor frowned. "You took Alfirin's necklace without asking, and I'm here to take it back."

"You can have your stupid necklace!" replied Niphredil, and she tore it off of her neck and flung it at Elanor. "Now get out!" Elanor was more than happy to oblige, and left Niphredil wailing on her bed.

Evan was waiting outside the bedroom when Elanor came out. He shifted unhappily from foot to foot, and he was wringing his hands desperately. Elanor knelt and gave Alfirin her necklace back, and then stood to face the youth.

"I'm sorry Elanor," he murmured. "I don't know what came over me."

"You're young Evan," Elanor replied. "You have hormones that are raging through your body. You need to be careful Evan, for Niphredil's sake. She's too young to realize the consequences that intimacy can have. If you care about her at all, you must be careful."

"I do care for her," Evan's whole being showed his words to be genuine. "I love her more than anything on this Middle-earth."

"Evan you're too young to know what love is," Elanor replied firmly. "You must be patient." Evan nodded, and departed.

"Horsy ride," Alfirin broke out suddenly. "I want a horsy ride." Elanor smiled, and lifted her baby sister onto her back, and carried her around the palace. The dinner bell rang and Elanor rushed down the stairs into the dining hall. She placed Alfirin onto a chair and took her place by the chair in which her father usually sat. Niphredil came down the stairs, and sat sulkily by the chair of her mother. Finally King and Queen Elessar entered the room, and took their seats.

"Elanor was battling again today," Niphredil spoke up. Elanor smirked inwardly as she watched the different reactions from her parents. As usual her mother did not look pleased, but then it was very hard for Elanor to ever please her mother.

Arwen Elessar had never really approved of her daughter's desire to be a warrior. Having been an elven maiden she had never been interested in going to war, and she could not understand why it was that her daughter was not content to wear pretty things, and do the duties that had been assigned to her as princess.

Aragorn however, looked proudly upon his daughter, "Did you win?" He asked curiously.

"She was battling against Evan," Niphredil continued, interrupting her father. "I told her that a lady does not fight, but she would not listen."

"And how's young Evan fairing against your skills?" Aragorn asked eagerly. "I suppose you beat him quite easily." Elanor nodded, and Aragorn smiled. "That's my girl."

"Aragorn, do not encourage her," Arwen beseeched her husband.

"Why?" he asked. "If she wishes to become a warrior, I say all power to her. She obviously cares not for being a princess who does nothing."

"Then let me become Princess of Gondor in Elanor's stead," Niphredil jumped upon the situation. Aragorn looked sternly upon his younger daughter.

"Niphredil does have a point my love," Arwen laid her hand upon her husband's arm.

"Just because Elanor doesn't wish to be clothed in dresses, doesn't mean that she is not a good princess," Aragorn pointed out. Niphredil crossed her arms angrily, and the family continued to eat in silence.

Elanor was anxious to get back outside and continue her training, so as soon as she could she excused herself from the table and sprinted out of the palace down to the gate and finally out into the open field. She stopped to catch her breath and then whistled. Soon an ivory mare cantered towards her and neighed in greeting.

"Hello Lórien," Elanor petted the mare's silky white skin. The mare nickered a greeting and gently pushed her muzzle against Elanor's stomach. Elanor laughed and sprang lightly onto the mare's bare back. Lórien reared and began galloping around the field. Lórien was one of the few Mearas that were still left in Middle-earth, a direct descendant of the great Shadowfax. Her speed was admired by all, but the mare had chosen Elanor for her companion. Wherever Elanor went, Lórien could be found as well. The mare had neither saddle nor bridle, but Elanor found her very responsive to even the slightest touch.

Lórien slowed to a trot, and then stood staring across the field. She pranced sideways, and snorted nervously. Elanor followed the mare's gaze and saw a figured hooded and cloaked making its way across the field. Elanor spurred Lórien forward and the mare trotted towards the mysterious figure.

"What brings you henceforth to the City of Kings?" Elanor asked as soon as she was close enough.

"I wish to see the King," replied a female voice. "Bring me before him."

Elanor was taken by surprise by the way the stranger spoke, but she nodded nonetheless. Lightly the stranger leapt onto Lórien's back, and they headed back towards the castle.

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Aragorn stood at the window overlooking The Land of Shadow. His face was troubled, his brow knitted, his lips pursed. Every day Mordor became blacker, and every day Aragorn's fear became stronger. Something was amiss, he knew this. The men of Gondor were training in the case of war. He had sent scouts to the area, but had heard nothing of them.

"My Lord," Aragorn turned around at the sound of one of the servants. "The Princess approaches with a guest wishing to see you."

"Thank-you" Aragorn replied. "Send them in." The servant bowed, and opened the door. Elanor entered followed by a hooded figure. Elanor bowed her head in respect, and stood off to the side.

"Aiya Aran Elessar," the figure bowed its head as it spoke. "Inyë tulin ananyarin elyë ta yonta selmatulin. Merntë ana quetnnaelyë." Aragorn's keen grey eyes widened. The figure turned and began to leave, but hesitated at the door. "En an i anar nútanna, san en an te."

"What was all that about?" Elanor asked her father. Aragorn sat down upon his throne, his face drawn with anxiety.

"Not many still speak in the ancient elvish tongue," he murmured.

"I knew it was a mistake not to learn more of it," Elanor sighed. "The only elvish I know is 'Inyë uin hanyalyë' and 'Quetlyë i Quetilsa Fírima'."

Aragorn smiled at his daughter, "Well Niphredil's got you beat in that aspect."

"Father," Elanor hesitated. "Would Niphredil uphold the honour of Gondor better than me?"

"Niphredil cares nothing for the people," Aragorn replied. "She only wishes to be princess because she knows nothing of the responsibilities that a princess has. She thinks that all a princess has to do is to sit and look pretty. My daughter, I couldn't have been blessed with a better maiden for this city."

"You can't deny though Father that you still wish for a son," Elanor tried to keep the bitterness from her voice.

"Elanor you misunderstand me," Aragorn replied. "I don't need a son, for you would rule this city well in my stead."

"But with the birth of a boy, the rule of this city would automatically be passed on to him," Elanor pointed out.

"And with you as an elder sibling, he couldn't go wrong," Aragorn smiled at his daughter. Elanor returned the smile, and went to the window overlooking Mordor.

"Every day the Land of Shadow grows darker," she turned to look at her father. "What's it mean?"

"I don't know Elanor," Aragorn admitted. "Something's amiss, and I fear the very worst. I can only hope that I'm wrong." Darkness began to fill the room, and Aragorn turned to see the sun sinking beyond the horizon. He remembered the words of the stranger and waited with baited breath.

"My Lord and Princess," both Aragorn and Elanor turned at the sound of one of the servants. "There are a large number of hooded figures standing at the gate. They say that they wish to speak to you."

"Send them in," Aragorn replied. He fidgeted as the minutes ticked by, and his anxiety set Elanor into a state of unease. Finally the door opened and six figures entered, Aragorn noted that two of the figures seemed to be only children in their stature. "I welcome you to Gondor." He said. "Perhaps I'm mistaken but I thought that there'd be more of you."

"The rest of our kin are waiting in the halls," replied a female voice.

"Who are you?" asked Aragorn. "Are you friends to Gondor?"

"No," replied a familiar male voice. "But we are friends to its king."

"It's Strider!" exclaimed another familiar male voice.

"That's right," replied a soft, familiar male voice. "He became king remember?"

"Why are you here?" Aragorn asked.

"Do you not know?" asked a female voice that Aragorn knew very well. "The Land of Shadow grows darker day by day. You have seen this, yet you have done nothing."

"How dare you speak to my father in such a way!" exclaimed Elanor raising her bow and pointing an arrow at the stranger.

"Do not insult the Lady of the Wood," replied a male figure pointing his own arrow at her.

"Enough," said the small figure with the soft voice. "This is getting us no where. Athelas lower your weapon." The figure lowered his bow, and Elanor reluctantly did the same. "Aragorn I need to tell you something. Sauron's power continues to grow with each passing day."

"Impossible," Aragorn rebuked. "Sauron was destroyed seventeen years ago."

"You're wrong," replied the figure sadly.

"How would you know?" asked Aragorn angrily.

"Because it was my fault that He survived," the figure bent its head, and the taller figure behind him put its hand on his shoulder.

"Frodo," Aragorn breathed. The small figure nodded. "Then that means…" His eyes widened and he could not complete his sentence.

"Yes Aragorn," replied the voice that he knew to be Galadriel. "It means that the War for Middle Earth has only just begun. Although I believe that it would be better to get a good nights rest and discuss this in further detail in the morning."

"Absolutely," Aragorn agreed. "Servants please find suitable rooms for our guests."

"Shall I help Father?" Elanor asked. Aragorn nodded, and Elanor led the six figures out of the hall.

"Did you hear that Mr. Frodo?" the other small figure asked as they walked. "We get to sleep in beds tonight!"

"Since you're so excited you can have the first room," offered Elanor. "I hope that you find it adequate Mr. …"

"Gamgee," replied the figure, "Samwise Gamgee."

"Oh my goodness, my father's told me so much about you," Elanor exclaimed. "I'm delighted to meet you!"

"Well thank-you," Sam replied and he closed his door.

"This next room's for you," Elanor opened an intricately carved door that led into a splendid room. "I hope that you'll find it to your liking Lady…"

"Galadriel," replied the figure. Elanor's eyes widened, she had heard so much of this elvish woman. Galadriel gazed momentarily at her, and then glided inside.

"This room's yours sir," Elanor said respectfully. "I hope that it's suitable for you." The figure extended a white staff into the room, and at once there was light. "You – you're Gandalf the White!" Elanor exclaimed. "You rode the great Meara Shadowfax."

"Yes I was great friends with Shadowfax," the wizard replied. "I wonder if he still runs free in these plains."

"He does," Elanor assured him. "I've seen him. He runs as fast as the wind itself despite his age. My father forbade that anyone touches him."

"I doubt that Shadowfax would let anyone but me touch him anyway," Gandalf mused. Elanor bowed her head in respect and continued on.

"You have good skills with a bow Princess Elessar," said one of the remaining tall figures.

"I'm Elanor," replied the maiden. "I assume that you're the one who had their arrow pointed at me."

The figure laughed, "Yes that was me Lady Elanor, my name is Athelas."

"Well Sir Athelas, I challenge you to a duel tomorrow," Elanor smiled. "In the meantime get some rest and be ready by luncheon."

Athelas laughed, "You get some rest too, for it is difficult to beat an elvish warrior." Elanor liked this elf, and she could tell that he was a skilled fighter. She could not wait to see just how good he was. "I'll see you in the morning then Sir Athelas."

"I shall be waiting with my sword drawn Lady Elanor," he replied, and shut the door.

"Now then which of you would prefer the next room?" Elanor asked the remaining figures.

"I think that Eáránë should have the next room," replied the small figure.

"I can find my own room," the tall figure replied. "Do not worry about me."

"Then I believe the next room goes to you Mr.…."

"Baggins," he replied. "Frodo Baggins."

"You're the Ring-bearer," Elanor exclaimed, and Frodo nodded. "I never thought that I'd have the honour of meeting you! Father's told me so much about you, your bravery, your courage, your strength, it's incredible! Wow, I sure hope that you find this room suitable."

"Yes thank-you," the hobbit replied. After Elanor closed the door, Frodo put his pack down, and removed his cloak, and jacket, and placed them on one of the chars in the room. Then he pulled out his pajamas, trotted into the washroom, and began to run a bath. Curiously he picked up a bottle with a label reading '**Bath Suds**' and smelled it. The mysterious substance smelled like fruit and so the hobbit poured some of it into the running water. To his delight white foam began to form, and once the water level was right, he turned off the tap.

Frodo undressed, and used a stool that had been in the corner to climb into the tub. Gratefully he slipped into the hot water, and began to wash off some of the dirt that had accumulated on his skin. A knock sounded on the door to the washroom.

"Come in," Frodo admitted after making sure that none of his skin was visible. The door opened and Eáránë glided into the washroom. Saying nothing she picked up the bar of soap and gently began to scrub the Halfling's back. Frodo closed his eyes enjoying the feeling of her gentle hands on his skin. He could feel her wetting his hair, massaging his scalp, and then wetting it again.

"I will leave you to enjoy your bath now," she said at length, glided out of the washroom, and closed the door. Frodo allowed himself to relax in the bath for a good long time before he got out. He took down a white fluffy towel and dried off his wet body thoroughly before pulling on his pajamas. Feeling refreshed, Frodo climbed into bed, laid his head down on the feather pillow, and fell into a restless sleep.

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Eáránë glided silently about the castle. She did not feel the need to sleep, and she felt like exploring. Though she would never admit it to anyone, she had become disoriented, and was simply trying to find her way back to the wing that Frodo was sleeping in. She wanted to watch over him, and keep him safe for as long as she could.

Gratefully the elf came upon a familiar staircase, and ascended it. Walking down the hall she silently opened Sam's door, inside the hobbit was snoring contentedly. Eáránë closed the door, and glided towards Frodo's room. She opened the door, and she could see the Halfling's sleeping form. Quietly she went towards him and sat down on the bed. Again she noted that Frodo appeared troubled, and she wished that there was something that she could do to ease his pain. Gently she pushed his curly hair away from his forehead, and ran her fingers over his cheek. Standing up, the elf prepared to leave.

"What're you doing?" she spun around upon Frodo's yell. The hobbit was still lying on the bed, his eyes closed. Eáránë closed the door and went towards him. "Put it out you fools, put it out, put it out!"

"Frodo," Eáránë gently touched his trembling shoulder. "Frodo wake up, you are having a nightmare."

"Go!" the Halfling cried out his body writhing on the bed. The elf could see his terror, and wondered what he was dreaming. She wished that she could wake him from this vision, but he would not respond. Abruptly the hobbit began to yell out in pain. His eyes flew open, and he lay panting.

"What is it Frodo?" Eáránë asked as he panted violently. "What did you see?"

"I just relived my experience on Amon-Sûl," the hobbit replied, his entire body trembling with fear.

"It is alright Frodo," the elf assured him. "You are safe now."

"Will you stay with me?" Frodo asked. Eáránë nodded, and the hobbit felt some of his anxiety leave. "You should get some rest too." He suggested. Eáránë smiled, removed her sandals, and glided out of Frodo's sight. He heard the rustling of the bed sheets, and felt her lie down behind him. Gently the elf put her arm around him, and Frodo felt all his fears melt away. He felt that nothing could harm him now.

"Sleep now Frodo," said Eáránë from behind him. "I promise that you will sleep in peace." Frodo closed his eyes. The warmth of Eáránë's body behind him, and her slender arm around him made him feel secure. He closed his eyes and within moments was sleeping peacefully.

Frodo woke in the morning to a bird chirping in the window, "Good morning to you too." He smiled at the bird, sat up and stretched. He looked beside him and noticed that Eáránë was no longer there. He was disappointed. He had wanted to say good morning to her as well. Just as he was thinking this, the door opened, and Eáránë glided in with a tray with a silver platter and a mug that had steam coming out from it.

"Good morning," she greeted him as she placed the tray down on his lap. "I thought you might enjoy breakfast in bed."

"Thank-you," Frodo exclaimed. "You didn't have to do that." He removed the lid of the platter, and was touched when he saw five pieces of bacon, two slices of toast, a jar of strawberry jam, and two fried eggs. Hungrily he began to eat, and he made sure to offer some to Eáránë even though he knew that she would decline.

"I did not know what type of food you would like," the elf admitted. "But I do know a thing or two about what hobbits in general like to eat, so I told the chef what I wanted."

"Thank-you so much," Frodo meant his words. Happily he sipped on the hot tea that she had brought up for him. Eáránë left the hobbit to his tea, and took his used dishes to the chef. When she returned to his room, Frodo was pinning the Lórien brooch onto his grey cloak.

"Galadriel has already spoken to Aragorn," the elf informed him as he slung his pack over his shoulders. "He and his daughter Elanor are going to travel with us." Eáránë looked outside. "Oh it is almost luncheon, Elanor and Athelas are due to have a duel, if you wish to see them you had better make your way outside."

Frodo descended the staircase lightly. He knew that Eáránë was not far behind him, and he felt more at ease knowing that she was watching over him. His sensitive hearing caught the sound of footsteps ascending towards him, and he perceived a maiden coming towards him. The maiden looked like Elanor except that she was dressed in a white dress, and had grey eyes.

"I do not know why Father has allowed all of these strangers into the palace," she muttered to herself. "They are ruining the décor. All hooded and cloaked, the people are going to think we are running a homeless shelter."

"Good morning," Frodo greeted the maiden.

"Good morning what?" she attacked verbally.

"I'm afraid I don't understand the question," the hobbit admitted.

"My name is Niphredil," the maiden thundered.

"I'm sorry," Frodo apologized quietly. "Good morning then Niphredil."

"Do not refer to me so informally," Niphredil shrieked. "You will call me Lady Niphredil like all the others."

"Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" Eáránë asked icily from behind Frodo.

"It does not matter," replied Niphredil haughtily. "He is obviously not royalty. Now bow before royalty both of you!"

"He bows to no one," replied Eáránë coldly.

"And who are you to decide who shall and who shall not bow to royalty?" Niphredil challenged. Eáránë removed her hood, and Niphredil took a step back.

"I am Eáránë Elensar," replied the elf in an icy tone. "I am in the service of the Lady of the Wood. I will not bow before someone trying to be something that they are not." Niphredil quailed at the words of the elf. Eáránë gazed coldly at the maiden. "Never address Frodo Baggins in such a way again, for there are others in our company who are not as forgiving as I am." Niphredil's eyes widened, and she turned on her heal and fled. Eáránë crossed her slender arms across her chest and shook her head. Frodo smiled slightly at the elf's concern, and continued to make his way outside.

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Elanor prepared for her fight. Her blade was sharp, her arrows were many, her aim was perfect, and she had eaten well. There was a knock on the door.

"It's open," she called, swinging her sword skilfully. Her blade was met perfectly by another, and the maiden looked up. Elanor smiled in greeting at the man in front of her. His hair was long, going down past his shoulders, and a very light-blonde. She could tell that he was an elf by the pointed ears that were visible in front of the tiny braids that the sides of his long hair was tied into, but it was his amber eyes that fascinated her. She had never seen eyes like his before. "You must be Athelas." She said pulling her sword away. The elf nodded, his keen gaze never leaving her. "Are you ready?" She asked.

"I am always ready," he replied, "how about you?"

"A warrior's always ready for anything," Elanor replied.

"Well I do not doubt that you are a warrior," replied Athelas. "But you have never encountered an elven warrior before."

"That's true, but it makes no difference to a true warrior if they've never experienced something before," Elanor argued. "Any last-minute requests Sir Athelas?"

"No bows," he replied, "only swords. The first one to be put into a death-like situation loses. There will be time enough where we will have to kill, and be killed, but until then let us not."

"Agreed," Elanor replied, and together they made their way to the battle field.

"It is a perfect day," the elf mused as they walked. He smiled, and continued to walk beside her silently. Athelas was delighted to see Frodo among the spectators, and Eáránë standing behind him. The crowd parted, allowing the two warriors through, and Athelas set his bow down onto the grass. Then he strode to the centre of the field, and was soon joined by Elanor.

"Good luck Lady Elanor," the elf extended his hand.

"And to you Sir Athelas," Elanor replied taking his hand and shaking it.

Aragorn stood and addressed the crowd, "This duel is to be fought by Elanor Elessar of Gondor, and Athelas of Eldamar. The rules are simple, no bows, and no blood shed. Draw swords." The elf and the maiden drew out their blades. "Fight." Aragorn sat, and the two began to battle. It was breathtaking to watch, both had exceptional skills, and fighting techniques.

"You have some skills with a blade My Lady," Athelas commented as they battled.

"As do you Master Elf," Elanor smiled.

Athelas dealt her a hard blow which sent Elanor reeling. The maiden was soon back in the fight, and seemed to be fiercer than before. She now knew that she had been pitted against a strong opponent, but she still had some tricks up her sleeve.

Athelas skilfully met her next blow. The maiden pushed with all of her might on the blade and managed to force the elf back. She ran at him, but instead of attacking, she dropped to the ground and took his feet out from under him. The elf instead of falling to the ground, rolled, and skilfully leapt to his feet a few yards away.

"You're a worthy opponent Athelas of Eldamar," Elanor complimented.

"Thank-you My Lady," Athelas replied. "I am honoured that you consider me so." They continued to fight, the blows slightly more in favour of Athelas, but Elanor was fierce, and determined. Athelas had the advantage of being physically stronger, and again he sent Elanor reeling backwards. The maiden ran at him, and the crowd drew its breath expectantly. They had seen this move before. At the last minute she would flip over her opponent and press her sword against their neck. However, just as the maiden reached the elf, he sprung into the air, landed behind her, and pressed his sword against her neck.

"Athelas of Eldamar is the winner," Aragorn declared. Athelas released his hold on the maiden, and came around to face her.

"You are quite a warrior Princess Elessar," he bowed his head in respect. "I am honoured to have had this battle with you."

"As am I," Elanor replied. "But I must insist that you simply call me Elanor."

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**Translations in order of appearance**

**Hail King Elessar**

**I come to tell you that more will come**

**They wish to speak to you**

**Look for the sun to set, then look for them**

**I do not understand you**

**Speak you the language of mortals**


	8. Chapter 7 The Hunters Become the Hunted

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings.**

**Author's Comments: I apologize if my translations are incorrect, I'm using an online dictionary.**

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_**Chapter 7**_

The Hunters Become the Hunted

"Gimbul agh thrakul," the words echoed horribly in the darkness. "Búbhosh Burzum durbatûk."

"Nazgûl gimbul?" stammered a horribly disfigured creature. The hooded figure to who he was speaking turned around quickly. The orc quailed under the dark gaze of The Dark Lord.

"Glob," Sauron hissed, and advanced towards the orc. The creature remained rooted to the spot with fear. "Snagadug. Thrakulu Lugbúrz. Krimpul-ishi ghâsh agh burzum." The orc screamed and threw itself at the armoured feet of The Dark Lord. Two larger orcs came forward

and dragged the screaming creature away. Sauron laughed coldly and then turned to another orc. "Gimbul dug."

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"I Nórësa Huinë ná yonta morna máca ré," the scout muttered as she sat down upon a rock, and wiped her brow. "Ar tar ná inyë, imas erúmëa ramba." She huffed, and looked up at the rocky outcrop. Galadriel had sent her to Mordor to make sure that Sauron was not sending any armies. "Inyë lavs ana valan an i tyarta…?"

"Skai dug," the scout was grabbed roughly by an orc.

"Heca!" she yelled. The orcs screeched upon hearing the Elvin Language and let their grasp go just enough for the scout to wriggle free.

"Gimbul dug!" the orc commanded. The scout ran as fast as her elvish legs could carry her and as she did so she cursed that she had not been paying as much attention as she should have been. Silently she ducked behind a rock and ripped off a piece of her grey cloak. Pricking her finger she scribbled some elvish words on it.

"Tulin anan hanusa Endórë," she shouted, and cautiously poked her head above the rock. To her relief, a tiny bluebird was flying towards her. "Yulusina ana Altáriel." She instructed when the bird was close enough. The tiny bird took the piece of fabric and flew off with it. As soon as the bird was out of sight the scout began running again.

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Eáránë stood and gazed nervously at Mordor. Galadriel had sent the scout to go make sure there was nothing suspicious happening there, but so far the elf had not returned. Eáránë speculated that something terrible might have happened, but the scout would still have warned them somehow.

Her train of thought was broken by the soft chirping of a bird. The elf looked up to see a tiny bluebird settle down on a rock beside her. Clutched in its beak was a piece of grey cloth, and Eáránë recognized it to be part of a grey Lórien cloak.

"Inyë ná mi i dursa Altáriel," she said. The bird hopped over to her, and dropped the fabric into her hand. On it was scribbled in blood, 'Urqui nar lelyanna i Lossë Osto.' Eáránë thanked the tiny bird, and ran towards the Palace. Most of the population was still gathered outside after the duel between Athelas and Elanor. She could see Athelas speaking with Frodo, and quickly made her way towards them.

"Yassen__ná Altáriel?" she asked when she was close enough to Athelas. The elf pointed, and Eáránë followed his gaze to see Galadriel speaking with Aragorn. She thanked him, and quickly made her way towards The Lady. "Herinya, inyë tuvullo." She gasped handing the fabric to Galadriel.

"Vámmë erin mi i Lossë Osto," Galadriel called. All the elves gathered their things, Aragorn and Elanor followed suit. Eáránë opened her mouth to inquire about the scout. "Aiquen ná mi i tellë ná hyarya mi i tellë." Galadriel replied. Eáránë looked desperately towards Mordor, but there was no sign of the elf.

"Inyë vá autanya málo ana firer," Eáránë replied stubbornly.

"Elyë selma men me ilya mi i tiësa Úmëa," Galadriel replied.

"San inyë selma erin mi i tellë," replied Eáránë resolutely.

"Ve elyë mere," replied Galadriel. "Nan i Cormacolindo ná mi maurësa elyë." Eáránë sighed. She knew that Galadriel had a point, and if she had to choose between the scout and Frodo, she would without hesitation choose the Halfling.

"I urqui tulin tar!" an elf cried out. Eáránë looked towards Mordor, and she could see the orcs in the distance. Quickly Frodo and Sam were gathered up and the elves began to move quickly across the plain.

Eáránë glanced over her shoulder as she made their way across the plain. The orcs were gaining on them, but there was no sign of the scout. The pace of the throng increased, and Eáránë was relieved to see the gap between the elves and the orcs increase. The pace however was hard for the elf to maintain. She had not been built for running, and her respiration was becoming difficult. She grimaced but continued to run, her lungs burning with every breath. She wondered how long they would continue this pace, knowing that she would soon have to stop and catch her breath.

The pace of the elf began to slow down dramatically, and soon she had fallen to the very end of the throng. Again she looked over her shoulder and saw that the orcs were gaining ground quickly. She knew that she could not run any more, so she decided that as a last act she would force more time for the others. Panting she stood and watched the throng continue on, and watched the orcs advancing towards her. The leader was riding a warg, and was grinning evilly. Eáránë met his gaze coolly as he rode up to her, and stood her ground resolutely.

"Well now what do we have here?" he asked circling the elf. Eáránë said nothing, but kept her icy gaze trained upon him when he came back into her view.

"She aint talkin'," grunted another orc bringing out a cruel looking blade. "Let's slay her now!" The orc advanced upon Eáránë who watched him warily. When he was close enough, the elf grabbed his blade, and pulled it out of his hands. The orcs looked at each other. Clearly they had not expected this. Eáránë turned towards the orc on the warg and ran at him. The orc laughed and charged at her, but the elf nimbly leapt out of the way and jumped onto the back of the warg. Skillfully she removed the head of the orc, and took control of the warg, turning it towards the remaining orcs. Eáránë spurred her mount towards them, and they met her in battle. The elf fought with grim determination. She knew that she could not leave any alive, for they would go back for reinforcements. Orc-blood splattered onto her slender frame, and she wrinkled her nose in disgust. Soon she was covered with orc-blood, and all but one orc lay slain around her. This last orc was making a run for it. Eáránë threw the blade at his retreating figure and smiled slightly as the blade pierced his head. Quickly she turned her warg, and spurred it in the direction that the throng had gone.

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Athelas sat down next to Elanor. The young woman was watching the surrounding area intently. Athelas looked at her and followed her gaze. Behind him he heard the light foot falls of Frodo. He could tell the difference because Sam walked just a little bit heavier.

"Any sign of Eáránë?" the hobbit asked anxiously. Athelas shook his head, and Frodo began to pace silently. He did not know what he would do if the elf did not come back. Just the thought of loosing her made his heart ache. He turned and looked over Athelas' shoulder. In the distance he could see something coming towards them.

"Athelas do you see that?" he asked and the elf nodded.

"What is that?" Athelas asked.

"It looks like a warg," replied Frodo, his heart sinking. Athelas raised his bow at the creature as it drew nearer, and shot. The warg fell with a thud, and the figure tumbled to the ground. Athelas readied another arrow and got ready to shoot. "Wait." Frodo laid a hand on the elf's arm. "That figure's too tall to be an orc."

"But it is too short to be an elf," replied Athelas keeping his arrow pointed at the approaching figure.

"What if it's Eáránë?" Frodo asked.

"That is impossible," returned the elf.

"Why?" the hobbit countered.

"There were too many orcs," Athelas blustered. "And besides, she is…"

"What," Frodo inquired coldly. "Female?"

"Well yes," Athelas felt foolish. "And she is not a warrior."

"How do you know that?" Frodo questioned.

"I do not know," Athelas replied in a flustered tone, but he did not lower his arrow.

"Unless I'm mistaken," Elanor interrupted. "I think it's a woman." Both hobbit and elf turned and looked towards the figure.

"Orc-women," Athelas was puzzled. "I did not know there was such a thing."

"I don't think there is," replied Elanor, and she squinted at the approaching figure. She reasoned that the figure was female, but it was hard to tell because the figure was covered in a dark substance.

"Uin macn," called the figure. Athelas put his bow down, and stared. Frodo recognized the voice and could barely contain his excitement.

"Eáránë," he cried, and ran towards her. "You're alive! Are you alright?" The elf nodded. "What happened?" He asked. "What're you covered in?"

"Orc-blood," she replied grimacing. "It has a very nauseating aroma." The hobbit had to agree with her. The smell of the orc-blood was making him feel queasy, but he was so relieved to see that she was safe, that the smell did not really bother him.

Frodo began to wonder how long it would be before they would reach Mirkwood. He could not help feeling that Sauron would stop after sending one unsuccessful group of orcs to try to slay them. He knew that it was probably only a matter of time before they would be attacked again. Uneasily he looked around to see if anyone was thinking the same thing. The expressions of all those who were around him were grim, and he could only speculate as to what was causing them.

The anxiety of the hobbit caused him to become a bit paranoid. Upon hearing any noise, he would stop and look around. He hated that he was doing this, but his nerves were strung tightly through his small body.

"You're sure jumpy Mr. Frodo," muttered Sam.

"I'm sorry Sam," Frodo replied. "I just can't help feeling that we're going to be attacked." Again the pace quickened, and the Halflings found it difficult to keep up.

"Right now I'm wishing that I hadn't eaten that last apple," Sam admitted holding his stomach. Frodo could not relate, he could not even remember when he had last eaten. He looked over his shoulder and saw a group of Warg-Riders racing towards them. "It just can't get any worse can it?" Asked Sam glumly as a strong wind began to howl. Abruptly Sam grabbed at his stomach and fell to the ground. Frodo dropped next to his companion and tried to help him up. Sam tried to get up but collapsed with a little moan. Frodo stood protectively in front of Sam, and drew out the glowing Sting. The orcs laughed cruelly and advanced.

"I will kill you if you touch him," Eáránë's voice was comforting for the hobbit to hear. He watched as she advanced towards the orcs. The orcs stopped laughing as they saw that she was covered in the blood of their kin. The group parted and allowed an Uruk on a large warg to ride towards Eáránë. The elf stood her ground and gazed coldly at the Uruk. The creature took out his blade and pressed the tip against her neck, and laughed.

"Not so brave now are you," he asked leering widely. Eáránë said nothing, but kept her icy gaze trained on him. The Uruk raised his blade to strike, but as he swung, the elf grabbed the blade and wrenched it out of his hands. The Uruk seemed surprised, but then smirked broadly, and guffawed.

"Try laughing when you have no head," Eáránë spoke coolly. The Uruk stopped, and glared down at her.

"Mind runnin' that by me again?" he grunted. Eáránë repeated what she had said, and his expression became even darker. "Get her!" He ordered, and his warg reared up on its hind legs. Eáránë dodged out of the way of the warg's claws, and leapt up onto the back of the warg. With strength that it did not look like she could wield, the elf pushed the Uruk off of his mount, and charged at the orcs.

Frodo watched the battle in horror. Eáránë was terribly outnumbered, and it did not seem like anyone was going to help her. Abruptly a hand clamped around his mouth and dragged him into the underbrush.

"It is alright," Athelas' voice hissed. "It is me." Frodo relaxed and soon Aragorn placed Sam down beside him. "Stay down no matter what happens." Athelas instructed, and he and Aragorn made their way towards the battle.

"Come on you slobs," roared the Uruk angrily. Two orcs ran at the warg Eáránë was riding, but stopped dead in their tracks with arrows sticking out of their backs. At once, Athelas and Elanor broke out of the brush.

"Perfect timing," exclaimed Eáránë. "I was starting to think you were not coming."

"What and leave you to fend off all of these orcs?" Elanor asked bringing out her sword. "Not likely." She and Athelas stood back to back, and shot at the wargs causing their riders to fall to the ground. The riders were promptly shot by more arrows. Aragorn leapt out.

Eáránë realized that she had lost sight of the Uruk. Looking around she spotted him near where she knew the two hobbits were concealed. Swiftly she launched the orc-blade into the air, sending it just close enough to graze the cheek of the Uruk.

"You missed," he laughed. "Now you have no weapon." Eáránë laughed, and spurred on her mount to charge at him. The Uruk remained rooted to the spot for a brief period of time, and then he shrieked and began to run. Easily the warg overtook him, grabbed him, and tossed him into the air. The Uruk landed with a thud, and Eáránë turned her attention back towards the underbrush where Frodo and Sam were hidden.

Frodo was barely breathing as he watched the battle. He could not believe that Eáránë had managed to tame the warg she was riding. He glanced over at Sam whose face was going through some bizarre conniptions. The hobbit was horrified as he realized that his companion was trying not to sneeze. Desperately the hobbit tried to cover his mouth, but the sneeze blasted out loudly.

"There," grunted an orc. "Over there. There's something in the bush." Frodo looked up to see two orcs running towards them. Frodo pulled out Sting, whose blade was glowing blue. The orcs stopped, looked at each other, turned around and ran. Frodo lowered his sword in confusion, and felt someone grab him. He was placed down on the back of a warg, and felt an arm encircle him protectively.

"Do not worry," Eáránë said from behind him. "Elanor will get Sam." Frodo wondered how Elanor was going to tame a warg, she was still back to back with Athelas. Elanor lowered her bow and whistled, and out of the brush charged a beautiful white mare. Elanor leapt gracefully up onto her horse and disappeared into the underbrush where Sam was still hiding. She appeared again with a dazed looking Sam clutching onto the mane of the mare. Frodo swung Sting into the neck of an orc and Eáránë claimed the weapon from its still standing form. Two orcs ran at them. "Hang on." Cried Eáránë and the warg reared up on its hind legs and tried slashing at the orcs with its claws. Frodo clung onto the collar of the beast as it lurched forward and crushed the two orcs beneath it. Frodo heard the whinny of a horse, and looked over to see Sam hanging on for dear life as Elanor's mare reared up and struck the orcs with her hooves.

His sensitive hearing caught the sound of a bow being strung, and he saw an arrow come flying at him. Faster then her could really follow, Eáránë brought her blade down and deflected the arrow to the ground. The hobbit slashed at another orc, and blood spattered onto his cloak. The odour was barely tolerable, and Frodo could feel his stomach turning. Another whoosh of an arrow and the warg howled and fell to the ground. Eáránë grabbed Frodo, and used her body as a shield as they fell. Several orcs laughed, and brandished their swords. Eáránë brought her orc-blade into view, and Frodo held the glowing Sting aloft.

The orcs attacked, but they did not get very far. Eáránë's warg came down upon them hard, viciously grabbing them in its mouth. Eáránë held Frodo against her as they watched the warg dismember the orcs. Then it came and allowed her to climb up onto its back, and the elf extended a hand to Frodo who took it. Eáránë patted the warg and spurred it on towards Athelas. Athelas was managing, but he was running out of arrows. He knew that soon he would be fighting with his sword, but the knowledge of the sheer number of the enemy unnerved him. He heard a grunt behind him, and turned to see an orc grinning at him. Then abruptly a glowing blue streak of light passed in front of Athelas' eyes, and the head of the orc fell off of its body. Athelas looked up into the face of a warg. He leapt backwards and then saw that Frodo was riding this warg, and behind him was Eáránë wielding an orc-blade. She was drenched in orc-blood, and some of her own silver blood. The warg grunted and took off at Eáránë's command, and Athelas unsheathed his sword.

"Athelas watch out," he turned at the sound of Elanor's voice.

Athelas readied his sword as an orc ran at him. Easily he removed the head of the orc, and began fighting two at once. He glanced over to see her cleave the heads of three orcs in a row. She grinned at him, wiping the sweat off of her brow. Athelas turned, and flipped into the air while removing the heads of the orcs, then landed on their severed necks, and managed to detach the head of a Warg-Rider. The warg kept going, so Athelas jumped onto its back, and hacked at the neck until the warg fell to the ground. Warm blood spurted onto his face, and onto his clothes. Athelas only stopped to wipe the blood out of his eyes. He could see Aragorn fighting the orcs.

"Come on you slobs," shouted the Uruk. "Show them no mercy." The remainder of the orcs rallied onto the warg that Eáránë and Frodo were riding, and they managed to knock the hobbit to the ground, and shot the warg so that it sprawled into the brush. Frodo scrambled onto his feet and held Sting out in front of him. The Uruk looked at him and guffawed loudly.

"Try laughing when you have no head," the Uruk turned to see Eáránë smiling coolly at him, and before he could do anything she severed his head from his neck. The remainder of the orcs panicked, and began to run. Unfortunately for them, they ran into Aragorn, Athelas, and Elanor along the way.

"Come," Eáránë said. "We should get back to the others." They began to head back, when the sound thundering footsteps reached their ears. "Run!" shouted Eáránë. Athelas grabbed Frodo, and Aragorn grabbed Sam, and they began to run. Frodo looked behind them to see a huge group of Uruk-hai. His heart began to thump wildly in his chest. Some of the Uruks were shot down, and Frodo was relieved to see that they had reached the rest of the elves. The group began to run as fast as their immortal legs could carry them. He saw Elanor running, and assumed that she had left her steed to return to safety.

"It just can't get any worse can it?" asked Sam dismally. The wind began to howl again, and ominous black clouds covered the sun, but the elves kept their quick pace even as it began to rain. Frodo pulled his hood up and said nothing, because he knew that bad situations could always become worse. He rested his head against Athelas' shoulder, and stared out into the bleak surroundings. The rain was coming down so hard that it was painful.

"Well at least we are getting cleaned off," an elf pointed out. Most of the elves muttered under their breaths, and some shot him withering glances. Frodo smiled at the elf's attempt to lighten the mood, and wrapped his cloak more tightly around his body. He was completely soaked, his clothes plastered to his body. All he could do was huddle against Athelas for warmth, and even that did not work. Behind him, Frodo could hear the pounding footsteps of the Uruk-hai and he bitterly contemplated the fact that he had caused all of this. It was his fault that they were out in the pouring rain being pursued by Uruk-hai. Tears of frustration began to run down the face of the Halfling. He knew that he could not change what had happened, and he hated himself for it.

"Why are they even chasing us?" Elanor asked.

"They must've had orders to attack anything suspicious," Aragorn replied.

"Shouldn't we make a stand?" Elanor inquired.

"There's too many of them," replied Aragorn.

"We need to slow them down," replied Athelas. "But we cannot afford to stop."

"You won't have to," replied Elanor. "I'll slow them down."

"It is too dangerous," Athelas argued. Elanor whistled and her white mare cantered powerfully up to her. Athelas grabbed Elanor's arm. "Please, do not do this." He pleaded.

"I'm the only one Lórien will let ride her," replied Elanor. Athelas reluctantly let go of her arm. Elanor leapt unto Lórien's back nimbly.

"Be careful my daughter," said Aragorn.

"I will be," she promised, and giving a last smile to Athelas she turned her mount around and galloped towards the Uruks.

"Come Athelas," Aragorn took the arm of the elf. "We can't stay here." Athelas looked back to where he could see Elanor battling the Uruks. Reluctantly he let Aragorn lead him away.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You are taking this very well Athelas," the elf looked up and regarded Eáránë as she spoke. "I know it was hard for you to let her go alone." Athelas nodded.

"Nothing you could've said would've made her stay," said Aragorn. He smiled affectionately. "She takes too much after me."

"I feel horrible for letting her go alone," replied Athelas sighing. "I should have gone with her."

"She wouldn't have let you," replied Aragorn. "She doesn't like putting others in danger."

"This is all my fault," Frodo sighed from Athelas' arms. "If I hadn't failed, none of this would've happened."

"Nobody blames you Frodo," Eáránë assured him. "You did the best that you could."

"But it wasn't enough," the hobbit countered dully. "Please put me down Athelas." The elf obeyed, and Frodo walked silently beside them. Eáránë crossed over to walk beside him, and put a gentle hand on his small shoulder.

"How long of a journey is it to Mirkwood?" Athelas asked.

"I am not entirely sure," admitted Eáránë. "My ability to judge time is lacking."

"Is it true that there are giant spiders there?" asked Athelas.

Eáránë shuddered, "Unfortunately yes." She said. "I am not keen on spiders."

"They're not my favorite either," replied Frodo with a slight smile.

"I bet," said Eáránë with a smile. "I think that even the bravest being in the world would not care for spiders if they had encountered Shelob."

"Bilbo told me about the spiders in Mirkwood," Frodo replied. "From what he described they were no where as large as Shelob."

"Wonderful," Eáránë replied sarcastically. "That makes me feel so much better." She smiled grimly. Frodo put a reassuring hand on her arm.

"How do we know that the elves in Mirkwood will not be hostile towards us?" Athelas inquired. "After all we do look quite suspicious."

"We do not know," replied Eáránë. "But it is a chance that we must take."

"Wonderful," grumbled Athelas. "I feel really great knowing that."

"It could be worse," replied Frodo softly.

"Giant spiders, and hostile elves," Athelas replied raising his eyebrows.

"We could be heading into Mordor," Frodo countered.

"That is true," Athelas admitted. He looked down at Frodo. "I suppose any situation can always get worse." Frodo nodded solemnly. Athelas sighed. "Well I suppose I had better get used to it now."

"I don't think you ever really get used to it," replied Aragorn.

"I suppose that is true," Athelas agreed. "But I have only ever known peace and quiet."

"Then I commend you," praised Aragorn. "It takes guts to go willingly into danger when all you've ever known is peace. You're very brave."

"I would say I am more curious than brave," replied Athelas. "I have never seen the real world."

"And do you know at what price you're seeing it?" Aragorn questioned.

"I have a rough idea," Athelas replied.

"I agree with Aragorn Athelas," Eáránë agreed. "I think that it is very courageous what you have done."

"Do not speak of me so highly just yet," Athelas smiled slightly. "I have not faced anything close to as dangerous as what Frodo has told me."

"How about Cave Trolls?" an elf inquired.

"Frodo has told me about Cave Trolls," Athelas assured Eáránë.

"What about the Nazgûl?" the elf continued. "Have you ever been face to face with them?"

"No," Athelas admitted.

"The Nazgûl were those Black Riders that attacked us?" Athelas asked. Eáránë nodded, and Athelas shuddered. "They were eerie." Athelas was quiet for a moment and sighed heavily. "I wonder if Elanor is alright."

"I really couldn't tell you," replied Aragorn. "She's a good warrior as you know."

"Yes I know," Athelas sighed. "But I am still very worried. I am going back for her."

"No," Aragorn gripped his arm. "We cannot afford to lose anymore than we have to." He choked after saying this and turned his head away.

"I am not used to death," Athelas muttered.

"It is especially hard for immortal beings to understand death," replied Eáránë.

"Not knowing is even worse," Athelas sighed, and Eáránë nodded in agreement.

"She did us a great favor," replied Eáránë. "And we will honour her for it."

"Is there any chance that she is alive?" Athelas questioned desperately.

"Her fate is uncertain," Eáránë replied. "Ultimately it will be her own choice whether or not she dies."

"Death is a mysterious thing," Aragorn said quietly. "Those who can't die wish that they can, and those who can die wish that they can't. It is a vicious cycle."

"But it is not true," countered Athelas. "Elves can be murdered."

"But you can't fall prey to illness, or old age," Aragorn pointed out.

"And because of it, unless I die, I am forced to walk the path of immortality for all eternity," Athelas sighed. "At this time I do not fear death, only to lose others to death."

"The enemy can use that as a powerful tool," Eáránë spoke up. "They will stop at nothing to get what they want."

"Well then you've got to promise me something Mr. Frodo," Sam appeared out of the mass of elves. "You won't tell the enemy anything, even if they're threatening me."

"I don't know if I'm going to take you with me Sam," Frodo sighed. "I hurt you too much last time."

"Now come on now Mr. Frodo," Sam countered. "You know full well that you're not going anywhere without your Sam."

"Many could learn from you Samwise Gamgee," Eáránë commented bitterly. "Something is coming." She said.

"Hide," Aragorn exclaimed.

"Wait," Eáránë instructed. Everyone stopped what they were doing. "It sounds like horse-hooves." Everyone was silent, and soon most of the elves were agreeing that it was definitely hoof-beats. Abruptly Lórien crashed through the bush and reared up. Elanor raised her sword up to the sky.

"You're late," Aragorn smiled.

"I had some things to take care of," replied Elanor with a smile, and she dismounted. Eáránë was delighted to see the scout seated on Lórien's back. "And I had to pick her up." Elanor jerked a thumb at the scout who lightly dismounted.

"I'm proud of you my daughter," Aragorn embraced Elanor. The maiden's face lighted up at his praise.

"Thank-you," Athelas smiled. Elanor merely smiled, and Athelas found that he was at a loss of things to say.

"That's probably not the only Evil we're going to run into," Frodo muttered darkly. "Sauron has had seventeen years to grow in strength and strength of arms."

"Elanor has given us more time," Eáránë replied. "However it seems that time is still against us, and we must move on faster. We cannot afford for the enemy to follow us."

"Sauron cannot see The Ring which is to our advantage," Galadriel spoke out clearly. "But His sight will not be clouded forever so we must keep moving. We can afford no more delays no matter what the circumstances are."

"The Halflings must be carried," Athelas pointed out. "Let us use our immortality to our advantage." He picked up Frodo, and Aragorn picked up Sam, and they set off at a fast pace.

"It seems like we're playing a merry game of Cat and Mouse," Sam muttered.

"And we're the mice," Frodo sighed softly.

"But the Enemy's blind," Sam countered.

"So are we Sam," Frodo pointed out. "We don't know where The Ring is either."

"As long as He doesn't know where it is I'm happy," Sam smiled grimly. Frodo returned his companion's expression. Though Sam had a point, Frodo could not help but feel that Sauron was not quite as blind as He seemed. After all, it had been He that had created The Master Ring in the first place. He was bound to it, as it was bound to Him. Frodo frowned and pondered this.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Translations in order of appearance**

**Find them and bring them to me**

**Great Darkness will soon rule all**

**Can't the Nazgûl find them**

**Fool**

**Slave filth**

**Bring him to the Dark Tower**

**Bind him in fire and darkness**

**Find the filth**

**The Land of Shadow is more dark every day**

**And here am I, by the outside wall**

**I allow her to order me because**

"**Interjection of contempt" filth**

**Be gone**

**Find the filth**

**Come to me animals of Middle-earth**

**Carry this to Galadriel**

**I am the servant of Galadriel**

**Orcs are coming to the White City**

**Where is Galadriel**

**I received this**

**We will not remain in the White City**

**Whoever is in the rear is left in the rear**

**I will not leave my friend to die alone**

**You will place us all in the path of Evil**

**Then I will remain in the rear**

**As you wish**

**But the Ring-bearer is in need of you**

**The orcs come thither**

**Do not shoot me**


End file.
